


Sir

by krsive



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Aftercare, Angst, Angst and Smut, BDSM, Coffee Shop, Dom/sub, Drugging, M/M, Memories, Morty's mindblowers, Overstimulation, Public Sexual Activity, Roofies, Sexual Assault, Smut, Spanking, dark shit, i'm not kidding--dead dove, i'm so excited about this one, more tags upcoming, ok guys?, you guys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:28:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 45,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25283149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krsive/pseuds/krsive
Summary: In matters of the heart, how does one make the right choice?Morty Smith has the fortune--or misfortune--of meeting two silver foxes in the same week. And they both want to be with him. How is Morty going to disentangle this situation once he gets involved with both Rick and Sir?***THIS IS NOT ON HIATUS. I AM JUST SLOW.***
Relationships: Rick Sanchez & Morty Smith, Rick Sanchez/Morty Smith
Comments: 140
Kudos: 130





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **inspiration for this fic partially from GorillaInTheMist's Dragon Age: Inquisition fic Yes, Fen'harel. Likenesses are cosmetic, though.**

Morty awoke refreshed and comfortable. He blinked his eyes open with a smile on his face. Today was going to be a good day. No, a _great_ day. He got up and dressed in his jeans and his new University of Wisconsin sweatshirt and headed downstairs, lured by the wafting scent of eggs and bacon. 

“Sweetie!” his mom chirped when he came into the kitchen. “You’re up so early! I was going to come up and fetch you when breakfast was ready.”

“That’s o-ok, mom. I’m gonna start taking my stuff out to the car.”

He bounced up and down the stairs with bags and boxes a few times before mom, dad, and Summer gathered for breakfast. When he sat down to a full meal that included fresh orange juice and pancakes, he barely had an appetite because he was so excited.

“Oh, sweetie, we’re going to miss you around here so much,” his mom said, misting up a little.

“Speak for yourself,” Summer said. She shot Morty a fond look before turning back to her phone, though. Summer’s semester started in a week. The two of them had made a point to spend time together during this last break, knowing that as they grew up there were few summers left together.

“You’re becoming a man, son,” Jerry said, nodding to himself as if it were a very sage pronouncement. Morty only barely resisted rolling his eyes.

“You’ll always be my little boy, though.” His mother came over and gave him a kiss on the top of the head.

“C’mon, mom,” he groused, but he was still smiling. It was nice to feel loved. 

An hour later the station wagon pulled out of the driveway, and Morty was on his way to his new life.

College was good to Morty, way better than high school had ever been. He hit it off instantly with his roommate Adrian, bonding over Super Smash Brothers and memes on discord. He did better in his classes than his dismal high school GPA would have belied. And he got himself his first job.

It was at an independent coffee house on State Street, the boulevard that led from the state capitol to campus. Morty liked working there. He liked the scent of the coffee, the chill atmosphere of the shop. He liked playing his spotify playlists over the speakers. And he liked the customers, mostly other kids from campus who came in to take over tables and furiously write papers or argue with friends over what they had learned in class that day.

Autumn had come on in full force by the day that everything changed for Morty. 

It was a typical midwest autumn day, grey and drizzly. Morty wasn’t having a particularly good one. He had burned himself on the steam nozzle an hour ago. He sucked on it while he filled an empty milk jug with steam so that he could crumple it and throw it in the trash. 

The bell over the door chimed, and Morty looked up.

This customer was atypical to say the least. He was an older gentleman, though more dignified than desiccated. His greying hair was wild, standing up in soft peaks. Oddly, he was wearing a lab coat; Morty wondered if he was a professor or something. As he came closer, Morty could see that he had beautiful blue eyes that glittered with intelligence. They stared at Morty with such intensity that the boy blushed and had to turn away. The man was handsome despite his age, and Morty could feel his interest piquing despite himself. He cleared his throat and looked back up, willing himself to play it casual.

“Welcome to F-F-Fair Trade,” he said. His voice cracked like he was 14 again, and he inwardly cursed himself. Why did he have to be so awkward? It seemed to amuse the gentleman, too, because he was looking back at Morty with a gentle smirk. “What can I get for you?”

The man fidgeted a little, still watching Morty’s face. “Small coffee,” he said eventually.

“Room for cream?”

“Yeah…” The gentleman was starting to look a little flustered, a subtle pinkness dusted across his cheeks. 

When Morty turned around to pour the coffee, he took the time to blow out a deep breath. Whoever this guy was, whatever his deal was, he was intense. Morty didn’t think he could have stood another moment pinned under the man’s cobalt gaze. He put on a smile when he turned around.

“Here you go, sir.”

The gentleman had pulled out his debit card while Morty was facing away, but he fumbled it as soon as Morty met his eyes and it fell down behind the counter. Morty put the cup on the countertop and bent down to fetch it. He smiled at the man, who was still blushing. Morty was beginning to wonder if this silver fox was checking him out. That was probably just wishful thinking. Doing his best to push it out of his mind, he handed the card back to the man, who ran it through the scanner with a visibly shaking hand. He reached back into his wallet, stuffed a $20 into the tip jar and left without another word--and without his coffee.

“Fuckin’ weird,” Morty said to himself. 

He set aside the coffee just in case the man came back, and he began to clean again. He got so wrapped up in the task that he didn’t notice the girl at the counter until she cleared her throat. 

“Sorry about that,” he said, wiping his hands on his apron. “Welcome to Fair Trade, what can I getcha?”

She pushed her long dirty blonde hair off of her shoulder and held out a black wallet to him. “I think someone dropped this,” she said. “Can I get a vanilla chai latte? Hot.”

Morty made her drink and waved goodbye to her. He took the wallet and opened it. Inside a clear plastic sleeve there was a Wisconsin Driver’s License.

“Rick Sanchez,” he read off.  
It was, unmistakably, the man who had run off just ten minutes earlier! Morty checked the rest of the wallet, finding it miraculously still holding a couple of hundred dollars in various bills and an array of credit cards. He silently congratulated the customers of this establishment on their honesty.

He sorted through the contents of the wallet until he found what he was looking for---contact information. It was an email address: R.SanchezC137@gmail.com. He hesitated, and then put the wallet into his back pocket. Maybe he should have just taken it to the police, but he didn’t want to pass up the chance that the universe had given him to see the bumbling silver fox again.

After his shift, he sat out front of the cafe with a cavity-inducing caramel frappe--the only coffee drink that he actually liked--and pulled out his phone. Thumbing open the email app, he began to compose his missive.

>>Re: Lost Wallet

Is this Rick Sanchez? You left your wallet at Fair Trade Coffeehouse. I found it and all your stuff is ok. Can we meet up so I can give it back to you?

-Morty Smith  
Sent from my Samsung Galaxy S10<<

He waited, huddled in his coat and sipping his drink until his phone pinged. He hurriedly snatched it up.

>>Re:Re: Lost Wallet

Are you free tomorrow?<<

Morty hurried to answer.

>>Re:Re:Re Lost Wallet

I have a test at 3. Is 5 too late?

-Morty Smith  
Sent from my Samsung Galaxy s10<<

>>Re:Re:Re:Re Lost Wallet

Meet me at the Weary Traveler at 5. Don’t be late.<<

Morty felt a warmth spread through his chest despite the chill of the day. Rick Sanchez was clearly an intense person, but he was also hot as hell to Morty for some reason. Which, on the one hand, was kind of gross. He had noticed this semester that the professors were looking sexier to him than his peers did, but Rick was probably even older than his teachers. Was he just into silver foxes now? Summer would never let him live it down if she found out.

Nonetheless, Morty hardly got any sleep that night. His heart was thumping until the wee hours. He kept imagining Rick’s piercing eyes trained on him again. For some reason, he wanted that more than anything.

His history exam was an essay test, and Morty’s head was drooping sleepily the whole time he was trying to write. He turned it in just under the bell, hoping for at least a C, and hurried to get his bike. The ride over to Willy street was frigid and he was crazy early, but he couldn’t help himself. 

He was talking to the hostess when he caught a glimpse of grey hair out of the corner of his eye. Rick! The older man was even earlier than Morty. He was sitting sullenly over a plate of fried cheese curds, staring down at the table. 

“Actually, I see the guy I’m supposed to meet,” Morty told the hostess, and hurried over to Rick’s table. He brandished the wallet. “Umm...h-here you go,” he said, standing at Rick’s elbow.

Rick looked up at him and snatched up the wallet. “You’re early,” he grunted.

Morty took off his coat and set it on the chair next to his as he sat down. “So are you,” he pointed out.

Rick made a noncommittal sound. For a few moments there was nothing between them but an awkward silence. Eventually, Rick pushed the bowl of delicious cheese over to Morty. 

“Have some.”

The curds were cold, Morty found when he lifted one to his mouth. How long had this guy been sitting here with his untouched appetizer? Morty smiled at him, hoping to be disarming.

“A-A-All your money’s in there and stuff,” he said, gesturing to the wallet that was now sitting between them on the table. God, why was his stutter back in full force? He had worked so hard to get rid of it in the first place.

Rick snorted. “That’s real dumb of you, kid. I’d have never known who took it. You coulda been…” He flipped the wallet open and counted the cash. “$218 richer. That’s gotta be a lot to some punk who works in a coffee shop.”

“I couldn’t d-do something like that,” Morty said. The idea had never even occurred to him. 

“Fishing for a reward, you little boyscout?”

“N-No!” 

This wasn’t going quite how Morty had envisioned. He realized that Rick hadn’t even looked at him once since he arrived. It seemed like a deliberate choice. He frowned, and decided to look down at his own menu for the time being and think about what he could say that would inject some levity into the situation.

The waitress came by. Morty ordered a salad, nervous about eating in front of Rick. Rick chose a burger that was covered in garlic and onions. When the waitress left, Morty gave a small laugh.

“G-Good thing this isn’t a date,” he said, indicating Rick’s choice of dinner.

Rick finally leveled him with that arresting gaze. “Maybe that’s the point,” he said.

Morty let out an embarrassing squeak and immediately shut himself up with a sip of water. Rick chuckled quietly, a low gravelly sound that had a blush spreading across Morty’s cheeks.

“What do you expect, kid? You look like you’re about fifteen.”

“I’m eighteen,” said Morty defensively.

Rick whistled. “A real adult,” he teased.

At least, Morty was pretty sure that was a tease. He dared a look at Rick’s face. The older man’s eyes were sparkling with amusement. Morty made himself smile back like he was in on the joke, like it wasn’t at his expense.

“I’m legal,” he said with a shy shrug, trying to josh back.

Rick seemed to find something on the ceiling suddenly fascinating. His cheeks turned a gentle, rosy pink. Morty beamed inwardly. He’d scored a point in whatever game they were playing, _and_ he was pretty sure that Rick was at least a little attracted to him. Which was good news, according to his pattering heart.

“Little punk ass…” Rick was muttering to himself. For some reason, it sounded endearing to Morty.

He chuckled awkwardly, unsure of what to say. They passed some time in silence. Morty kept catching Rick looking at him and then darting his eyes away as soon as Morty noticed. What was this guy’s deal? Should he really be so shy at his age? Eventually the food came, and they both had something to do with their mouths and their hands. The silence turned companionable as soon as the pressure was taken off of them. 

“So, kid. What are you studying?” Rick asked suddenly. He was holding his water, staring over the mouth of the glass at Morty.

“B-Biology,” he stammered. God, he was such a dork.

Rick snorted. “Of course you are.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Morty asked defensively.

“Biology is science for babies.”

“I l-l-like science. I’m not…” Morty frowned down at the table top. Why did he have to justify himself to this guy, anyway? Yet he felt compelled to. “I had a lot of trouble in high school. Chemistry was too hard for me. I c-can only imagine what it’s like in college.”

Rick shook his head. “You aren’t as dumb as you think you are.”

Morty frowned. “How do you know?”

“Because no one is as dumb as they think they are,” Rick said hastily, seeming taken aback. 

“Yeah. Maybe,” said Morty.

They slipped into silence once more. Rick got up abruptly and pulled out the wallet that had brought Morty here. He laid some money on the table.

“I’ve got yours, too. Thanks, kid.”

“Y-Y-You’re leaving?” Morty said. He barely even tried to hide his disappointment.

Rick seemed to hesitate. “I think that’s for the best,” he said, seeming rather serious. His gaze lingered on Morty’s face, intensity burning deep in his eyes.

Morty could only nod miserably. He had gotten his hopes up for nothing. He considered making a bold move and asking Rick out on a proper date, but in the end he didn’t have the courage. All he could do was watch Rick walk away. He slumped in his chair, frustrated at the tears beading in his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys. So, I didn't think about it and didn't reserve the email mentioned in this chapter. Someone might actually have that address, so please don't send any messages to it. Thanks!


	2. Chapter 2

“I’m telling you, man, I saw your pornhub account. This is absolutely the thing for you.”

Morty moved his arm from off of his eyes and glared at his roommate Adrian, who was waving a flyer at him. 

“I’m not going to a BDSM club. No way, no how. And my computer is private from now on,” Morty said, ending on a sharp note. 

“Dude, that account is public. And it’s not my fault you left it up on your laptop. Anyway, you’ve been moping all week. Forget about that old guy. Go to this club, I’m telling you.” Adrian dangled the flyer in front of Morty’s face.

Morty snatched it away and gave it a serious look for the first time.

_Camille’s  
A Leather and Lace Room  
Cover charge $20 for ages 18-20, $10 21+  
All are welcome, from novice to veteran!  
Come out and Play_

“I’m not going if you’re going,” Morty said at last. Of course he was caving. Morty always caved.

“Not my thing, dude,” Adrian said. “Have at it, no fear.”

“You’re a pretty good friend, Adrian,” Morty said. 

“Yeah, no duh.”

Friday night felt like it would never come, but of course it did. Morty changed his clothes three times--trying on a button down shirt and then his regular teeshirt before deciding on a college sweatshirt and skinny jeans. He decided to leave his bike helmet behind to try and avoid hat hair, and he pedaled through downtown to the club’s address. Thankfully there was a bike rack outside of the club, and Morty locked his bike and approached the front door, where he nervously showed his ID and paid the cover charge by swiping his debit card through a square reader. He had half expected to be turned away, but he was waved inside by the bored-looking bouncer who had taken his money and slapped a green wristband on him.

The inside of the club was dim and crowded. Noisy. Bustling. There was a crush of people at the bar, and many others lounging on loveseats and soft chairs scattered about underneath of pale yellow lighting. Others milled around, eyeing other singles like predators. Women in every state of dress and otherwise clustered together, looking around and giggling. Directly to Morty’s left a man in a corset was making out with one with a hairy bare chest. 

Morty felt like he would have liked a drink. It was too bad he was underage. He felt like maybe he was beginning to understand why there were so few eighteen plus bars. It was nervewracking being here sober. He decided to just wander around a little and think about whether or not he wanted to give up on this. He flitted about the room, settling in one spot and then second guessing himself and moving to another.

He was just about to leave when a man in a button down shirt approached him. “Excuse me,” he said politely. “You’ve been invited to meet Sir. Would you like to come with me?”

“Sir? What?” Morty looked around as if that would help clue him in. No luck. “Uh...sure, I guess.” To be honest, it was just nice to be invited by someone--to feel wanted.

The man led him through to the back of the club where there was roped off VIP seating. Lounging on a plush booth was a man in a dark suit, tie loosened and the top button of his shirt undone. He wore a black harlequin mask over his eyes that was trimmed in gold. His greying hair was slicked back, giving him a somewhat suave air. All in all, the man was striking and Morty felt instantly self-conscious. He held his elbow, standing awkwardly before him. 

“You can call me Sir,” said the man. “Sit down.”

Morty obeyed, sliding into a seat as far away from Sir as he could get. It was more than a little intimidating just being near him. He exuded confidence and sex. Why was Morty even here? Had he done something wrong?

“What’s your name?”

“Morty.”

“Why did you come here tonight?” Sir asked him suddenly, startling Morty out of his reverie.

“I...I’m not sure,” he admitted. “T-to meet people, I guess.”

Sir grinned and leaned back in his seat. “You’re a submissive,” he said, smooth and sure.

“Y-yeah. Yeah, I th-think so.”

“I have a proposition for you. Play with me tonight. If you like it, I want to become your Dom.” 

“Me? Why me?” Morty squeaked. 

“I don’t have to explain myself to you. Do you want to play or no?”

Morty bit his lip as he pondered. What was it with him and silver foxes lately? But he couldn’t say that he wasn’t curious. To be picked out of a crowd by an obviously powerful man like this was a heady aphrodisiac. He watched Sir touch his rocks glass to his thin lips and suddenly he was imagining them on his own, pressing insistently against him…

“Alright. I w-w-want to play.”

Sir grinned like a wolf. “That’s a good boy. Come with me.”

Sir tossed back the rest of his scotch and rose to his feet. He was tall, Morty realized, and lithe under his suit. As he brushed past Morty he picked up the scent of alcohol and expensive cologne. Morty felt terribly inadequate as he followed Sir out of the VIP area. They ducked through a door at the back of the club that led into a short fluorescent lit corridor. Sir seemed to be in a hurry, and Morty had trouble keeping up. They pushed through another door and reached their destination.

The room was small, little bigger than what was necessary to accommodate the large bed in the corner which was sharply made with black sheets. Next to the bed was a small nightstand in black lacquer. Opposite it was a large wooden X with wrist and ankle straps on it. Implements hung from a rack on the wall. The room was done up with rich red wallpaper that was embossed with a fleur de lis pattern. The lighting was dim, to Morty’s relief. He doubted he could stand under Sir’s withering gaze in the light of day, as it were.

“Do I have your consent to touch you?” Sir asked from behind Morty.

“Yes,” said Morty without thinking. Thinking in here would just get him too much in his head and he’d end up passing up this golden opportunity.

Sir’s long-fingered hands were on him then, sliding down his sides and crossing over his stomach. He felt Sir kiss the back of his neck and shivered. 

“I’m going to undress you now.”

Morty nodded meekly. He didn’t want Sir to see his pathetic skinny body, but he didn’t want this to stop, either. Sir’s fingers slipped beneath the hem of Morty’s shirt and he pulled it off over his head. Immediately his warm hands were running over Morty’s skin. He thumbed one of Morty’s nipples, and Morty cried out, laying his head back against Sir’s shoulder.

“Sensitive. I love it.” Sir licked the shell of Morty’s ear. “Alright, Morty. I’m going to tell you what’s about to happen to you, so listen carefully. We’re going to start slowly. I’m going to spank you, and you’re going to be a very good boy and take as much as you can.” He dipped his head and gently kissed the side of Morty’s neck. “Then we’ll see how you feel. Your safewords are red, yellow, and green. Green means everything is fine, yellow means that you’re starting to be overwhelmed, and red means stop. I _will not stop_ if I do not hear you say ‘red.’ Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Tell me your safe words.”

“Red, yellow, green.”

Sir’s arms tightened around Morty, crushing his back to Sir’s chest. “And how do you feel right now, Morty?”

“Green, Sir. Really, really green.”

Truth be told, Morty had an erection that was straining almost painfully against his jeans. Sir seemed to sense his discomfort, because he thumbed open the button and zipped his fly down. Morty groaned in relief as the restriction eased. 

“I want to touch you,” Sir breathed in his ear.

“Green. That’s very green.”

Sir gave a slight growl and slipped his hand into Morty’s boxers, taking him into his spidery hand. Sir gave him a few languid pumps that had Morty groaning and leaning back against him for support. He was curving at the top of every stroke just the way that Morty liked it. Sir had his arm around Morty, clutching at his hip as he touched him. He let out a shuddering breath and let go of Morty with a last trailing touch.

“Undress. On the bed on your hands and knees,” Sir ordered.

“Yes, Sir.”

Morty took off his socks and shoes and struggled out of his tight pants. He felt small and exposed in front of the Dom, and kept stealing looks at him even as he arranged himself on his hands and knees. No one had ever looked at him like this before. It was embarrassing and exhilarating all at once. 

Sir took off his jacket and tossed it over the wooden X. He undid his tie and rolled up the sleeves of his spotless white shirt. For a while he stood in front of the rack of strange implements. Eventually he picked one out and came to sit on the bed in front of Morty.

“I’m going to use this on you,” Sir said. He showed Morty a small paddle. One side had small rounded studs on it, and the other side was flat. “We’ll start with this side, and then we’ll see if you can take the other.”

Morty nodded. He couldn’t believe this was really happening to him. How had he ended up here? His mind was spinning. Little Morty Smith, naked on his hands and knees in front of a stranger. A high rolling stranger, apparently. He felt like such a slut, and he wasn’t sure that was a bad thing. 

Sir got to his feet and walked around behind Morty. He came down with the paddle with surprising gentleness. Morty had expected a hard smack, but it felt like he was barely touching him. 

Sir wasn’t stopping, though. Slowly, slowly, the swats grew sharper. Sir didn’t linger in the same spot, peppering Morty’s bottom with gradually harder smacks. Morty was inundated with the mere anticipation of pain. It flooded his mind, tensed his muscles reflexively.

Sir put his hand on Morty’s lower back. “Relax, baby. Daddy’s gonna take good care of you.”

Then the ritual began again. First the faintest brush of wood on the back of Morty’s thighs. A firm pat on either side of his ass. The noise was worse than the pain so far. Morty forced himself to breathe and keep his body loose. Now it was starting to hurt in earnest, sharp clapping strikes of pain that seemed to shut off Morty’s brain as they landed. 

By now Sir was drawing back his arm and laying into him. Morty’s skin felt hot and stinging. Each fall of the paddle wrested a cry from his lips. He could hear himself sniveling but couldn’t stop it. He whimpered and whined through the pain. 

_Smack_! He realized then that he was hard. Smack! His cock stood at attention against his stomach, leaking precome onto the sheets below him. Smack! His arms and legs were starting to tremble. _Smack_! Morty had never felt anything so intense, pleasure and pain mixing in the pit of his stomach to glorious results. _Smack_! His dick twitched with every swat. _Smack_! His breath hitched in his chest. 

“What color are you?” Sir asked, suddenly stopping and running a gentle hand over his burning skin.

“Y-y-yellow,” Morty stammered without thought. He hung his head, ashamed that he couldn’t keep up. “But I d-d-d-d-don’t want to stop!”

There was a momentary pause, and then Sir came into view. He sat down on the bed in front of Morty, looking rakish with his top button undone and his sleeves pushed up. Morty sat back on his haunches despite the pain, drawing away from the dom nervously.

“Lay across my lap,” Sir ordered.

Morty hesitated. “I don’t want to, uh, I don’t want to get anything on your clothes.” His dick was still dripping. Morty was humiliated to even bring it up, but Sir just smirked at him.

“I said lay across my lap, Morty. Can you follow directions or not?”

Hesitantly, Morty arranged himself on Sir’s lap, laying his cheek on the bed and trying to settle down again. Sir’s fingers were calloused but gentle as he ran them over Morty’s ass. Morty closed his eyes and made a tiny, appreciative noise.

“We’re going to try the other side now, Morty. Shh, shh, I’ve got you,” Sir said. His left hand settled on Morty’s bare back between his shoulder blades.

 _Smack_!

The pain began again, sharper this time. There was a deep aching, he noticed, beneath the stinging heat. 

“No,” Morty wailed. He curled his upper body, burying his face in Sir’s leg. Again the paddle came down, and again.

“I’m not going to stop unless you use your safe word, Morty,” Sir grunted, giving him another thwack. 

“I can’t do it, I can’t do it,” Morty cried. He felt tears stinging his eyes. He hissed in pain as his hips tried to rut into the sheets. He was desperate for friction, for relief and release.

“What a good boy,” Sir soothed him. “So good for daddy.”

Morty made a confused, strangled sound in his throat. Sir’s voice sounded almost loving, a stark contrast from the pain he was dishing out.

Morty’s whole body jolted with every slap of the studded paddle. The backs of his thighs ached deeply, and he could tell that his ass was bruising. Stroke after stinging stroke Morty bore up, moaning and sobbing. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks as he began to bawl loudly.

“Your little ass looks so cute all red, Morty,” Sir said with an appreciative groan. “God, I want to fuck you in that tight little hole of yours.” He punctuated that with a particularly brutal stroke. 

Morty screamed out. “Red,” he finally sobbed. “I’m red now! Please stop, Sir!”

“Ok, Morty. Ok. Hush now, it’s ok.”

“I’m sorry,” Morty cried. “I’m sorry.”

“You did such a good job, Morty,” Sir said, making soft hushing noises to him.

Sir reached over Morty and he heard the nightstand table’s drawer open. A moment later there came a soft touch on Morty’s ass. Sir was rubbing some kind of lotion or ointment into Morty’s raw skin. He rubbed small circles gently from his hips, moving downwards over his ass to the backs of his thighs. 

“I tried to h-h-h-h-hold out,” Morty sniffled. Tears were still streaming from his eyes.

“You were a very good boy, using your safeword when you needed it.” Sir carded his fingers through Morty’s hair. 

Morty hissed and shifted as Sir’s fingers ran over a particularly sensitive welt. Sir chuckled darkly.

“You’re still hard, Morty,” Sir said, and Morty realized that he must have just pressed his erection into Sir’s leg.

“Mmhmm,” Morty agreed miserably. He scooted backwards slightly, trying belatedly to hide it.

Sir scooped him up and laid him very carefully on his back on the soft sheets. Morty looked up at him longingly.

“Can I touch you, Morty?”

Slowly, Morty nodded. Sir growled his approval and climbed over Morty, settling down straddling his legs. He lowered himself over him and breathed hotly on Morty’s swelling erection, making it twitch appreciatively.

“Oh god,” Morty groaned. He gripped the sheets tightly. This was it. His first time with anything but his own hand. He wished he could see Sir’s face, that he could watch his expression.

Sir ran his soft tongue from Morty’s base to his tip. He swirled his tongue around his head.

“Your little dick is so cute and pink,” Sir said, lapping at the precome leaking down his length. “You taste so good, _fuck_.”

Morty wanted to argue against his dick being called ‘little’ and ‘cute,’ but then he forgot all that because Sir opened his mouth and swallowed Morty down with ease. Morty keened as he felt himself slipping immediately into Sir’s throat. Morty’s body wanted to buck upwards into the wet heat, but Sir held him down firmly by the hips. Frustrated, every nerve and neuron raw, Morty felt tears beginning to prickle at the corners of his eyes. He had never experienced pleasure like this, and it pooled with liquid heat low in his belly.

His balls were slick with dripping saliva. Sir fondled them in his warm hand as he bobbed his head. His tongue cradled Morty’s shaft.

Morty caught himself making a lingering guttural whine, but he couldn’t get himself to stop. He didn’t know what to do with his hands. Experimentally he tangled his fingers in Sir’s soft tresses, earning himself an approving hum that vibrated his dick and tore a cry from his throat.

“It’s too good,” Morty whimpered. “I’m gonna...I’m gonna come.” Wasn’t it good manners to warn your partner? Morty vaguely remembered reading that in a guide about dirty talk. He wished he could remember more. ‘That feels good’ seemed woefully inadequate, but he was far too overwhelmed to do better.

Sir let go of his hips and Morty bucked forward instantly, fucking himself into Sir’s throat. Sir didn’t seem to want him to stop, so he kept up his sloppy thrusts. He tightened his hold on Sir’s hair reflexively to hold him steady. There was no real rhythm to his movements, just the stuttering fumble of inexperienced desperation. 

He was stuck there teetering on the edge when Sir drew back. Morty practically started to cry when Sir let him come out of his mouth, but the older man replaced his mouth with his hand. He began to stroke him quickly, setting a punishing pace. He added a little curve of the wrist at the top of every stroke exactly the way that Morty liked it.

“I’m going to watch your face when you come,” Sir growled. His voice was raw from the face-fucking that Morty had given him.

“Please let me,” Morty begged, delirious.

Sir’s rhythm faltered for a single moment before a hasty correction. “What a good boy, asking permission,” he cooed. “Alright, baby, I want you to come for me right now. Come for daddy.”

Morty sobbed as orgasm tore through his tiny frame, shuddering as it went. He arched his back and loosed thick and white over Sir’s hand and his own stomach. 

Sir brought his hand to his lips, lapping up Morty’s come before bending low to lick the rest of it off of his skin. He moved up the bed and slipped his hand under Morty’s head, drawing him up into a deep kiss and sliding their tongues together, giving Morty the taste of his own come. Morty groaned at the bitterness that spread across his tongue. He clung to Sir’s shirt and held him close as the kiss grew calmer, shallower, until Sir leaned back. He tucked a stray curl behind Morty’s ear. 

“There, baby. Feel better?”

Morty nodded his head. He was so tired, his body weak and shaky, but his frayed nerves were smoothed over and he wasn’t crying anymore. Sir laid him back on the bed gently, smoothing his hair off of his forehead.

“Get dressed when you’re ready and come back out front. I want to talk to you.” 

Sir grabbed his tie and jacket and left the room with a lingering backwards glance. For a while Morty just laid on the bed, looking up at the white ceiling. His body felt so tired and weathered. Now that Sir was gone, Morty was beginning to feel the soreness on his ass again. He didn’t have anything else to focus on. His pounding heart gradually slowed. His chest unclenched. Gradually he collected himself and got up, quickly putting on his clothes. His behind burned where it rubbed against his boxers. He tried walking up and down the room a few times, but he could tell he was walking a little strangely because of the pain. He would just have to deal with it, he supposed. He would put on blinders and walk straight to Sir when he got out there.

So he did just that, making his way back through the fluorescent hallway and into the club. He couldn’t miss a couple of knowing glances that were thrown his way, but he did his best to ignore them. He walked right up to the VIP area and was let through the rope. He came to stand in front of Sir. 

Sir was kicked back in his seat, his tie still untied. He had one arm thrown across the back of the booth; the other was holding a scotch rocks. 

“Morty,” he said gregariously. He had a lazy expression on his face that made Morty’s guts twist pleasantly. “Come sit down with me, baby. Let’s talk.”

There were three women also in the enormous, curving VIP booth. They were looking at Morty disapprovingly. One of them whispered in another’s ear, and all three laughed, their eyes locked on Morty and Sir.

Morty came close and leaned in toward him. “I don’t know if I can sit down r-right now, Sir,” he said. “My...my butt hurts.”

“Morty, I didn’t hit you _that_ hard. Come sit next to me.” He patted the back of the seat. The woman with short black hair huffed and turned away from them.

Morty, sagging, obeyed. He carefully sat himself down next to Sir, who quickly pulled him close to him, side by side. Morty leaned in, though he hissed as all the motion aggravated his bruises. Sir leaned in, burying his nose in Morty’s hair, his breath hot on Morty’s ear.

“Did you like what we did together, Morty?”

Morty whined as Sir’s gravelly voice vibrated against his skin. “Uh huh,” he managed to squeak pathetically. 

Sir chuckled, and Morty thought he was going to die of how sexy it sounded.

“Why don’t we do this again next weekend, then?” Sir took Morty’s chin between his long fingers and turned him face to face. “I’ll be here next Friday. If you come...I’ll be your Dom, Morty.” He stroked his cheek and slipped his hand behind his head, toying with the short hairs at Morty’s nape. “I’ll collar you, and you’ll belong to me.” There was clear hunger in Sir’s voice, nearly a low growl.

Morty swallowed, looking back at Sir. He felt like he would follow him anywhere already. Anything to feel his hands again, his hot mouth; he wanted to feel special to him. He wanted Sir to be his. And he would get him by belonging to him. 

“I’ll be back,” he promised. “I’ll be back, Sir.”

Sir gave him a lingering kiss on the neck. “Then I’ll bring your collar.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amazing image was made by Ka Chan-- @kachan02322233 on twitter


	3. Chapter 3

Morty barely slept that night. The next morning he woke up with a groan, feeling the full soreness in his backside. It got worse when he sat up in bed, and even worse than that when he rolled to his feet.

“Yeah. No way I’m riding my bike today,” he muttered to himself. He was beginning to think he had made a mistake last night. Most places he needed to go could be walked to, but he wasn’t looking forward to having to pay for Ubers for the rest of it. Maybe he could stretch his definition of ‘walkable distance’ by quite a bit.

“Why? Your ass get tanned last night?”

Morty startled and turned around. He hadn’t realized that Adrian was awake. “N-none of your business,” he grumped.

“I’m gonna go ahead and take that as a yes,” his roommate said with a chuckle. “Damn, Smith, you got some action?”

“Maybe just a little,” Morty said. He couldn’t keep himself from smiling and he was a terrible liar anyway, so he figured he’d just admit it.

“Some Dominatrix paddle your ass?”

“Domi--er, Dom, I guess. Yeah.”

“Sorry. Shouldn’t have assumed.”

“It’s ok.” Morty shrugged. “It’s not like you’re bullying me or something.”

“I could still have asked. But thanks for letting me off the hook, man.”

“It’s ok, nerd,” Morty said with a grin. Man, this was _nothing_ like high school. He was so glad he’d decided to go to school in a liberal city. “Anyway if I’d known how bad my ass would hurt today I would have, uh, suggested we do something else. I can’t afford to Uber all around town.”

“Man, Smith, you could just ask your awesome roommate to drive you.”

“Geez, Adrian, I didn’t want to put you out. I don’t suppose you could give me a ride to work this morning, then?” Their apartment was farther from State Street than he would strictly like to walk. 

“Yeah, whatever. It’s fine. It’s not like you kept me awake all night tossing and turning and sighing.” Adrian teased. 

“Aww, geez, man. I didn’t mean to be so loud.”

“Whatever. Go get ready for work. I’ll be in the car.”

Morty walked into their shared bathroom, cringing slightly and reminding himself that they really needed to clean the apartment. He got out of his pajamas and threw them on the floor, and then turned around, trying to get a good look at his ass. It was criss-crossed with purple and red welts. For some reason the sight gave him a little thrill. It would be like having a secret reminder of what had passed between himself and Sir. Once he started thinking of it that way, the residual pain seemed more and more worth it. Smiling, he threw some water on his face to try and wake himself up and set about getting ready for his morning, humming to himself the whole time.

By the time he climbed into Adrian’s car he was in a great mood. He even decided not to complain about his roommate’s driving soundtrack, despite the fact that it was way, way too early for Norweigan black metal. They made small talk the whole way, mostly griping about a paper they both had due in their freshman English course in the coming week. Morty didn’t think he’d be able to concentrate on it whatsoever. He just wanted to spend his week daydreaming of Friday. 

This morning Morty worked with Sarah, who was a nice enough girl but not a good friend, so he didn’t even have much smalltalk to occupy him. He just kept his thoughts on last night. He was practically mooning over Sir by now, sighing to himself dreamily whenever he had a moment alone. The pulsing ache in his backside was a constant reminder.

He was about to take his first break when the bell over the door chimed. He looked up...and froze. 

Rick Sanchez was walking into his coffee shop. Again. 

This time he wore a navy peacoat over his sweater instead of the lab coat from before. His hair was just a little tamer than last time, though it was still windswept. Sarah greeted him cheerily, but Rick ignored her utterly. He stomped straight up to Morty, frowning, hands thrust deep in his pants pockets. 

“You. Outside, five minutes, let’s go.”

Morty gaped at him for a long moment, the wheels in his mind spinning but not catching. He came back to himself and tore his apron off, tossing it onto the back counter. “Sarah, I’m t-taking my fifteen,” he said.

“Whatever,” she replied, openly staring at the both of them. “I want deets when this is over.”

“In your dreams,” said Rick. “Hurry the fuck up.”

So Morty hurried the fuck up. He rushed outside, following Rick to one of the tables they still had set up out front even though no one was dining al fresco in October in Wisconsin. He spent a while just gazing at Rick, taking in the fine, sharp lines of his face, the sparkle of his cobalt eyes. Rick was wringing his hands a bit and looking down at the table top. His brow was furrowed, his thin lips set in a frown. Morty was growing worried, but the longer the silence between them stretched, the less and less he felt like he could speak up. He blew into his freezing hands, beginning to spiral out in anxiety. What was this all about? Was there something important missing from the wallet? Morty didn’t want to be accused of theft, and he mentally began to prepare rebuttals.

“Go on a date with me,” Rick blurted out. He blinked like he was surprised at himself for saying it. His gaze darted up to meet Morty’s and then fell again to the table.

“Wha--What?”

“”Yeah, that’s basically what I thought.” Rick’s hands squeezed into tight fists. There was something dark lurking behind his eyes, now. He started to get out of his chair, but Morty’s hand darted out and caught Rick’s in a firm grasp, making the man pause.

“You startled me,” Morty said. He cleared his throat. “I-I-I’d really love to go on a date with you, Rick.” He could feel his face warming despite the cold autumn air.

Rick dropped his weight back down into the chair. He gave Morty an odd, skeptical look. “Are you fucking with me?”

“No!” Morty noticed that he was still holding Rick’s hand, and he dropped it quickly. “I-I-I-I wouldn’t lie about something like that.”

Rick sat back in his chair, still wearing a subtle frown as he watched Morty’s face. After some time he seemed to accept whatever he saw there, because a bored expression overtook his features. Morty thought to himself that it wasn’t fair how sexy this guy could make any look at all. Morty shoved his shivering fingers into his armpits. It was so uncomfortable out here, but he didn’t want to take himself away from Rick’s presence. He would stay here with him for as long as he could get away with it.

“Alright, then. What do you want to do?”

“Doesn’t the asker u-usually choose?”

“I’m not going to spend my week wondering what to do to impress an 18 year old.”

Morty thought it would have been nice to imagine that, but he supposed that if he wanted to go out with Rick he’d have to play by Rick’s rules. He chewed on his chapped lip while he mulled the question over.

“I’ve been wanting to go to the Olbrich Gardens. The Conservatory is still open. We could go there.”

Rick visibly bit back his first thought, which strummed something strange in Morty’s chest. This guy was actually trying for him. Somehow that meant a lot to him. He didn’t even try to hide his fond smile, but let it spread across his face and settle there. Rick’s eyes widened briefly before he looked away.

“That sounds perfect. Does Friday work for you?”

“Oh. Er, could we do Wednesday? O-o-o-or maybe Thursday?”

“Thursday, then. Thursday at 4?”

“That s-sounds good,” Morty said, nodding enthusiastically. He took out his phone and, with numb fingers, tapped at the screen.

“What, you’re going to forget if you don’t write it down?”

“No,” said Morty defensively. Hell, he doubted he’d even get much sleep between now and Thursday, much less forget it was coming up. He just wanted to be able to write ‘date with Rick <3’ in his calender.

“Whatever. Go back inside. You’re going to catch your death and if you have a cold on our date I’m gonna be _real_ pissed.”

“You know, you don’t really get sick from--”

“Yeah, no shit, Morty. I just don’t want to sit out here anymore. Go back inside.”

They traded phone numbers and Morty reluctantly went back to work after watching Rick hurry down state street towards the Capitol. Sarah was grinning at him as he came in and put his apron on.

“You into grandpas, Morty?” she teased with a Cheshire cat smile.

“Shut up, Sarah.”

“So what, is he like your boyfriend or something? ‘Cause if he’s your actual grandpa then sorry-not-sorry, I’m asking him out.” She was leaning against the back counter, propped on both her elbows, and giving him a shit-eating grin.

“He’s m-m-my boyfriend,” Morty said quickly, holding up his hands in front of himself. “Don’t be weird about it.”

Morty was realizing something now, though, something he hadn’t thought about before; he was just so happy that Rick wanted to go out with him. If Rick did want to be his boyfriend, there was no way he’d want to let him keep going to the club and meeting with Sir. At some point Morty was going to have to choose. Geez, now _that_ was going to keep him up at night. There went any chance at peace this week. Though dreading future stress wasn’t enough to send him texting Rick to cancel. He was anxious as all hell at the thought, but he was also already seeing the appeal of having his cake and eating it, too. At least for a while.

That afternoon when Adrian picked him up, Morty couldn’t stop himself from grinning as soon as he got in the car. He felt like his good news was written above his head for everyone to see. Adrian only glanced at him and quirked his eyebrow as he lowered his sun visor, casting half his face in shadow.

“You still that happy from last night?” he asked. They pulled onto the street and started back home.

“Even better,” Morty said, his voice coming up in bright bubbles. “I have a date. With that guy I told you about last week.” 

He looked over at Adrian, excited to see his reaction. His roommate nodded his head slowly, keeping his eyes on traffic. 

“Damn, man. When did that happen?”

“He came into the cafe and told me he wanted to talk outside. Then he asked me out! It was crazy, he actually really wanted to go out with me.”

“Yeah. A little twink like you is a catch,” Adrian said. He flashed Morty a little sideways grin.

“I’m a twink?” Morty had never thought of himself in quite those words.

“Hell yeah you are. That guy totally wants some arm candy.”

“Geez. Is that...do you think that’s bad?”

“No! Especially not if you want to get laid,” Adrian said, stretching the word out. “Bet he knows a few tricks.”

“Shu--shut up,” Morty grumbled, raising his shoulders as he hunched down in his seat.

“You brought it on yourself, bro. I’m just saying that a guy that old has been around. And that means he knows a thing or two. You’re in for a treat, my dude.”

“I don’t know if we’ll even get that far. He might hate me afterwards and never call back.” Morty worried his hands together in his lap. 

“Whatever. It’ll be awesome. You just gotta have some confidence.”

“What do you even know about dating, anyway?”

“Woah! Shot through the heart.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Morty said, springing up in his seat and waving his hands in front of himself. “I just meant that this is adult dating. He’s not automatically my boyfriend or anything like when people go out in high school.”

Adrian chuckled. “Chill out. I get it. Yeah, ok, I don’t know anything about ‘adult dating,’ but I know you’re awesome, so it’s gonna go really well.”

“Geez, Adrian, thanks. You’re always in my corner.”

“Yeah, well, you put up with my Warhammer minis all over the place all the time, so I kind of owe you.”

“You’re fine. I kind of want to learn to paint minis, too…”

The conversation turned toward games, and Morty’s smile stayed around for the rest of the night as he spent time with his favorite person on campus.


	4. Chapter 4

On Thursday Rick showed up outside of Morty’s dorm in a black, classic muscle car--though Morty didn’t know what type it was. He’d never been a car guy, but the gleaming paint job and the purring engine combined to make his stomach do an excited little flip. He was shy when he slipped inside. Rick looked so at ease in the driver’s seat with one wrist hanging loosely on top of the steering wheel. Morty felt instantly embarrassingly young and out of place in the face of Rick’s relaxed beauty. He was watching Morty through bored, half-lidded eyes as he peeled out of the parking lot, engine purring. Morty found himself gripping his seat and gritting his teeth as Rick began to drive, immediately speeding recklessly and cutting someone off. 

“The traffic in this town has gotten ridiculous,” Rick grumbled. 

Morty startled, realizing that the complaint was the first thing Rick had said to him. No ‘hi, Morty,’ just a gripe about the traffic. Morty’s expression fell a little. Did Rick even want to be here? 

“Y-y-yeah,” Morty said. He could hear his lame stutter hang heavy in the air. He rushed on. “I practically got sideswiped on my bike last week. The cars are really aggressive.”

“That why you didn’t want to take your bike today?” Rick was looking over at him with some kind of barely-contained amusement, which Morty didn’t understand.

“Olbrich is kind of far from my d-dorm,” said Morty, thinking quickly. He couldn’t very well say that his ass still hurt too bad from a paddling from another man for him to take a long ride.

“Guess so,” Rick said. 

He began to whistle a cheerful tune, letting Morty thankfully fall back into silence. He was still gripping his seat to get himself through Rick’s reckless driving. 

“Do you think m-m-m-maybe you could slow down a little?” he eventually asked.

Rick looked over at him with a frown, but the car slowed. Morty breathed out a sigh as some of the tension left his body. It all came back in spades a moment later when Rick reached into the pocket of his lab coat and drew out a metal flask. When he unscrewed the cap Morty smelled alcohol. He took a swig and dropped it back in the pocket without looking away from the road once. Morty had never personally seen someone so blatantly break the law and all the rules of safety. Rick’s driving was still reckless even though it was slowed down significantly, and Morty spent the rest of the ride slamming on an invisible break every time Rick stopped on a dime.

Soon enough, thankfully, they reached the gardens. Morty hurried out of the car and waited for Rick, who was taking another belt from his flask. Morty had the feeling he needed to fortify himself for this date for some reason. He stood, arms crossed and shivering slightly. When Rick climbed out of the car he walked up to Morty and draped his arm over his shoulders, pulling him close to his side.

“What are you--”

“You’re cold, right?” Rick asked, even though he was back to wearing a lab coat instead of a proper autumn jacket. He didn’t look at Morty as he steered them to the gardens’ entrance. “Dumb of you not to wear a better coat.”

“The conservatory is going to be h-hot as heck inside.”

“Well, I’ll hold onto you until we get in there. It’s pretty annoying watching you shiver.”

Morty frowned slightly to himself. Rick seemed to have a way of bringing everything down even when he was doing something nice. He wasn’t sure what to think about it, because being invited into Rick’s body heat was all but intoxicating. He radiated a pleasant warmth. Morty found himself holding him in return, one hand pressed to Rick’s warm back and the other in his own pocket. It felt nice to be taken care of, regardless of the few misgivings dancing at the back of Morty’s mind.

When they got to the gate, Rick pulled out his wallet and slipped a few bills into the ticket machine. Morty, who had been reaching for his own wallet, was surprised to find Rick already holding a day pass out to him.

“Aww, geez. Thank you,” he said, accepting the ticket and placing it carefully in his pocket.

Rick snorted. “It was two bucks. And I get the feeling you can stand to save every penny you make at that barista gig. You make, what, 50 cents a day?” His words held a bite, but there was a decidedly friendly amused look on his face. 

“Something like that,” Morty grumbled.

Did Rick just not like him? He was so abrasive so far that Morty was beginning to dread the rest of the date. On the other hand, Rick’s arm was around his waist as they walked into the Conservatory. Morty felt like the gesture was almost possessive. Something about it sent a thrill through his gut. 

Morty had looked at the Olbrich website before they came, and he was able to lead them around the enormous indoor space, pointing out which plants were in bloom in the tropical-themed garden. He dragged a mostly-silent Rick from one end of the Conservatory to the other, gushing enthusiastically over vibrant bromeliads and speckled orchids. Rick was clearly bored, adding in the occasional ‘uh huh’ and stealing surreptitious sips from his flask.

“Do you wanna go home or something?” Morty asked, catching Rick’s eyes glazing over as they stood in front of a cluster of brilliant red blooms.

“What? No,” said Rick, clearly surprised by the question. He slipped his hand into Morty’s, his large hand swallowing Morty’s delicate one.

“You just seem bored.” Morty looked down at where Rick’s warm, dry hand was wrapped around his own. He felt sweaty and gross in comparison. “And...you’ve been drinking.”

“Morty, I’m always drinking.”

“Shouldn’t you, I dunno… _not_ be, since you’re driving us? You don’t want to get in an accident or get a DUI or anything,” Morty said nervously.

“I’ve been driving drunk since I was your age. I’m fine. Get off my back, kid. Geez, I forgot you were so preachy.”

“What?” Morty blinked up at him, his brow furrowed. Had he misheard?

“What’s this one?” Rick asked abruptly, pulling up short in front of a yellow flower.

“That’s a vanilla plant. It’s an orchid,” Morty said, dropping his former train of thought.

“Huh. I’ve never seen one before.” Rick rubbed a little circle on the back of Morty’s hand with his thumb.

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?”

“ pretty,” Rick said. 

When Morty looked up in surprise Rick was looking back at him with a gleaming intensity in his blue eyes. He was opening his mouth to answer when Rick pulled him off balance by his grip on his hand. Morty started to trip and Rick caught him against his body.

He kissed him.

The kiss was deep and fiery. Insistent. Morty froze for a moment, deafeningly aware that this was not an appropriate public display of affection. This was something risque, a kiss to be hidden behind closed doors. Rick drew him in, though, and Morty got lost in him. He put his arms around Rick’s waist and was rewarded by being drawn in tightly by an arm barred across his back. Rick licked into his mouth and Morty moaned, an embarrassingly lewd sound that Rick swallowed eagerly.

He didn’t know how long they stood there making out like teenagers, but eventually he heard someone nearby clearing their throat pointedly. He drew back from Rick as much as he could--a few inches only--and peeked around him. A middle aged blonde woman was standing behind Rick with her arms crossed, weight shifted to one side in a sassy pose. 

“Excuse me,” she said once Morty’s eyes were on her. “My kids shouldn’t have to look at that. Go get a room if you can’t stop playing tonsil hockey.”

“Sor--eep!” Morty started to apologize before Rick lifted him and turned them 180 degrees so he could glare at the woman.

“You’ve gotta come over here and ruin my date just ‘cause--let me guess--no one will go down on you, Karen? Get the fuck out of here with that. If you don’t want your precious crotchgoblins to see then take them somewhere else.”

“Is he even 18? I’m calling the police,” the woman said, getting her phone out. She was red in the face. A small child came over and wrapped himself around her leg, squalling.

“Rick,” Morty said, shuffling his weight back and forth nervously. “Maybe we should just go.”

Rick put his lips to Morty’s ear, making Morty shudder from the warm breath on his skin. “We’ll go in just a second, baby,” he murmured to him. 

He dipped his head and mouthed at Morty’s neck. Morty’s eyes fluttered closed as Rick suckled at him, drawing a blushing bruise on his skin. When he pulled back and left Morty standing alone, he felt shaky on his feet.

“You know, that’s really classy,” the woman said, pulling Morty back to the present. “Guess what? You’re going to jail for assaulting a minor today. I’ve got witnesses.”

“I’m 18,” Morty said quietly. 

“I’m sure you think you’re protecting him, honey, but let me tell you this man is no good. Why don’t you come over here, sweetie. We’ll call your mom together.”

“But...I’m really 18. We’re just on a date.”

“Come on, babe. Let’s get out of here. Buh-bye, Karen!” Rick said, waving as he dragged Morty out of the Conservatory.

Morty wrenched his hand out of Rick’s grasp as soon as they were outside. “What was that?” He spluttered, surprising himself with his anger.

“What was what?” Rick casually fished his keys out of his pocket and headed for his car.

“All of that! You didn’t have to be so rude to that woman. We could have stayed in there if you had just apologized!”

“I don’t apologize, Morty. I always do exactly what I mean to. If anyone doesn’t like it they can fuck right off.”

Morty stopped by Rick’s car, digging in his heels. He was considering just calling an Uber to take him home, as expensive as that may be. Rick stopped, too. His lips were parted just slightly, his brow knitted. He looked timid, despite his brash words from just a moment ago.

“What about the kiss? You didn’t really get consent, Rick.”

“What, so now I’ve got to ask every time I want to kiss you?”

“Well...it would have been nice to have a little warning, at least,” Morty hedged.

Rick walked up to him, backing him up until his back hit the side of the car. He leaned on his arm, getting in close and letting his breath fall hot on Morty’s neck.

“How about now, Morty? Do you want me to kiss you now?”

Morty let out a humiliating squeak.

“I’m gonna take that as a yes,” Rick said, his gravelly voice rumbling against Morty’s ear.

He let his body fall against Morty’s and took his face between his hands, tilting his face upwards with a gentle touch. He took Morty’s lips with his own. The kiss was slow but deep, Rick licking his way into Morty’s mouth. He took his time exploring, schooling Morty’s impatient tongue to the pace that he wanted instead. Morty could feel Rick getting hard where they were pressed together, and his body responded in kind. Rick must have noticed because he began grinding against him deliciously. Morty whimpered into Rick’s mouth. 

The small sound must have done something to Rick, because suddenly he was pulling away. He turned his back on Morty and scrubbed his hand across his mouth. His body was practically vibrating. He was tense.

“What--” Morty started.

“Get in the car,” Rick said, his voice muffled by his hand.

“What did I do?” Morty asked. He was embarrassed to find his voice thick with emotion.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Rick said. He was clearly making an effort to remain calm for some reason Morty still didn’t understand. “But I need you to get in the car now.”

“Why?” Morty was stubbornly looking for an explanation, something that would put the bottom back in his stomach.

“So I don’t jump your bones in the fucking parking lot,” Rick growled. “Get in the _goddamn car_ , Morty. You little fucking brat.”

Morty was shaking as he slid into the passenger seat. He found himself trying not to cry from the sheer emotional whiplash. And, of course, Rick was already drinking from his flask as he settled into the car. He leaned his forehead against the wheel and just sat there for so long that Morty was beginning to wonder if he’d fallen asleep from drinking so much that day.

“I’m sorry,” Rick gritted out, his voice breaking the silence suddenly.

“What?” Morty asked, aghast. Rick had just told him that he never apologized, so what was _this_?

“Don’t make me say it again,” Rick groaned. His voice dropped in volume. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’ve been a real bastard all day.”

“M-Maybe just a little.”

“I’m an old man, Morty. I’m set in my ways.” He smashed the heel of his palm against the wheel. “Goddamnit, I’m going to ruin everything.”

“R-R-Rick, it’s ok, really,” Morty found himself saying. Though he couldn’t imagine why he was comforting the man. He should be outraged by how badly the date went and stand up for himself...right? Yet he felt a soft spot in his heart spreading wide to take Rick in. “You don’t have to get so upset. I-I-I’m having a g-good time.”

Rick snorted. He turned his head toward Morty. “You’re still a terrible liar,” he said.

“Still?”

“All teenagers are terrible liars,” Rick said quickly. He coughed and then turned the key in the ignition. 

“I guess you’re right.”

It was slightly offputting being referred to as a teenager by his grown-ass-adult of a date. To Morty’s ears, it widened the gap between them. It made him wonder if Rick was just a cradle robber...or worse. He looked over at the older man as they pulled out of the parking lot, following his easy movements with his eyes. _Goddamnit, don’t let him get away with all this shit just because he’s sexy_. 

Yeah, Morty was going to let him get away with all this shit just because he was sexy.

Morty steered the conversation back to the plants they had seen, which seemed to relieve Rick to no end. He even watched him take the flask out of his pocket absentmindedly but not put it to his lips, as he was busy actually engaging in the conversation. Which, frankly, stunned Morty. By the time they pulled up to his dorm Morty was smiling and relaxed. He was about to get out and say goodbye when Rick touched him on the arm. He turned back to see Rick sliding towards him across the bench seat, looking a little hesitant.

“Can I...can I kiss you one more time?” Rick asked without looking up at Morty’s face.

Morty’s face went crimson. “Y-Yeah, ok,” he said, practically drowning in his own shyness.

Rick lifted his head. His eyes searched Morty’s face for something that he seemed not to find. Gently, he laid his hands on Morty’s shoulders and leaned in.

This kiss was soft, almost timid. For some reason that made Morty feel a little sad, so he put his arms around Rick and pulled him closer. Rick mirrored his movements, wrapping Morty securely in his long arms. He tangled his fingers in Morty’s curls and held him close as they kissed. What passed between them wasn’t chaste, exactly, but it was tamer than their previous passionate tangle. Morty led the pace, deeply aware of his inexperience but growing surer of himself as Rick let him explore his mouth. Their tongues caressed, their lips slid together.

Behind them a car honked its horn. Morty’s eyes opened and darted towards it. Rick kept one hand buried in Morty’s hair but lifted his other to flip off the intruders. But, eager to fend off any further thing Rick might say or do to ruin the end of this date, Morty put his hands on his shoulders and pushed him gently back. 

“Geez...didn’t really think about that one,” he chuckled nervously. “It’s not exactly a good look, making out in the middle of the p-parking lot.”

Rick looked sad, but he nodded. “Yeah. I guess not. Bye, then, Morty.” His head was hanging, his gaze on the ground.

“I’ll c-call you, ok?”

Rick looked up at him, his expression guarded yet hopeful. “Really?”

“Yeah, o-o-of course!”

That seemed to perk Rick up, and he sat up to his full height behind the wheel. Morty smiled at him in a way that he hoped was disarming but knew was probably just nervous-looking.

“Only, maybe I can drive next time? I-If you’re going to be drinking?”

Rick snorted. “No way you’re getting behind the wheel of this car. Remember that time you--” He cut himself off suddenly, and looked away from Morty. “You wouldn’t show Baby the respect she deserves.”

“I don’t really want to die in a drunk driving accident.”

Rick rolled his eyes. “Well, I’m not giving up the drinking, either. If you’re going to get your panties in a twist about it, I guess I can pay someone to chauffeur us around town.”

Morty smiled. Despite the abrasive tone, Rick had made a little concession, which Morty was choosing to take as a victory.

“Thanks, Rick.” He leaned in to give him a peck on the cheek, which seemed to stun the older man briefly. “I guess I’ll see you around soon.”

“Yeah. Real soon.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, dear readers! I might be a bit of a slow writer, but I promise you that this fic _will_ get finished, I won't leave it half-done.

Morty winced as he felt a splash of icy water spray up onto his foot. Great. He’d driven his bike right into a puddle in the middle of the dark nighttime parking lot. He’d been so careful to avoid them on the rest of his ride. 

He wasn’t sure what he was doing here at Camille’s, frankly. His date with Rick had more than piqued his interest, and he blushingly imagined that no one who kissed the way Rick did was willing to share. Add ‘jealous’ to the list of things Morty should hate about the man, but if he was being honest he liked it. Hell, the possessive streak was something Morty found thrilling about Sir, too. So he reminded himself that he’d only had one date with each of them and that he didn’t have to choose _right now_. It’s not like he was 15 again and kissing a girl meant you were ‘going steady’ immediately. No, this was _adult_ dating, and he was going to do what he liked. Maybe everything would crash down around him, but he figured he could play it off as the ignorance of youth. Yeah, that sounded good.

He locked his bike up out front and headed inside, his feet feeling icy from his run in with the puddle. He didn’t let it distract him from his mission, though. He headed straight to the back of the packed room to Sir’s VIP section.

Sir was holding court again. Again he looked resplendent in a suit with a skinny tie and that same mask. Under each arm was a busty woman, one in a red dress with a plunging neckline and the other done up in leather. A rocks glass dangled from his fingers.

“So then she told me to get the fuck out. I, still in my altogether, gathered up my things and went straight out the front door,” Sir was saying, and his audience answered him with a smattering of laughter. “So her neighbor is getting his paper, and he looks over at me with his jaw on the floor. I just saluted him and--Morty!” 

Sir spotted him and rose from his seat hurriedly, extricating himself from the two women and heading over to open the velvet rope, himself. Morty felt disapproving eyes on him, but he tried not to look back at Sir’s little court. The man swept him up, holding him under the ass and twirling them around. Morty threw his arms around Sir’s neck for balance.

“You came back,” Sir said with a wide smile.

“I said I would.” Morty felt suddenly shy. He hid his face in the crook of Sir’s neck.

“Yeah, well, people say a lot of things, don’t they?” 

“I guess.”

“Have I actually found an honest man?” Sir shifted his hold on Morty and carried him up the three shallow steps into the VIP area. “Sam, Brittany, scoot,” he demanded, and settled into a seat, putting Morty down carefully next to him. 

“Diogenes, right?”

Sir did a double take, staring out through his mask at Morty. “Yeah. Diogenes. Color me surprised.”

“Freshman Philosophy.” Morty’s shoulders rose as he felt the warmth of Sir’s tone wash over him. “I remember ‘cause I really liked him. He was just a crazy old genius.”

Something flickered through Sir’s eyes and was gone in an instant. He leaned in close to Morty so the two of them could talk quietly, even in the loud club. “So. You came back. You remember what I said about that last time?”

Morty shifted in his seat. “You said that you would be my Dom from now on.”

“And how does that sound to you now?”

Morty fussed with his hands in his lap. “Really good,” he said quietly.

Sir reached out and raised Morty’s head with two fingers under his chin. “I can’t hear you, Morty. You’ll have to speak up,” he said with a smirk.

“I said yes, I’d like that. Sir.” Morty repeated, trying not to look around himself--only at Sir’s bright blue eyes.

“Just what I wanted to hear.” Sir leaned in and nipped at Morty’s jaw.

“Sir?”

“Hm?” Sir was busy kissing Morty’s throat.

“How many subs do you have?”

The older man sat back, looking at Morty ponderously for a moment. “One,” he said, touching Morty on the shoulder. “So if you’re serious about it, I expect you to have no other Dom except me. Got it? If you want to play with someone else you may ask me for permission. But _you belong to me_ , understand?”

Morty nodded. “I don’t...I don’t want to play with anyone else.”

“Right answer, Morty. Come on, I have something for you.”

Sir stood and reached out a hand to Morty, who took it and allowed himself to be helped to his feet. Sir cut straight through the crowd, and Morty scrambled to stay at his heel, apologizing to people on his left and right as he went. They ducked through the back door and went down the hallway to the little bedroom again. 

On the bed were a few small shopping bags. Sir opened one and began fishing around in it as Morty shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other, trying to wait patiently for whatever was coming his way. The room already held good memories for him. He couldn’t wait to make more with Sir.

“Strip,” Sir ordered over his shoulder. 

Morty set about taking all his clothes off, kicking them into the corner along with his shoes. He heard Sir snort derisively, and turned towards him.

“Were you raised in a barn? Go fold them,” he said.

Head drooping, he went and did as Sir said. He turned red when he heard Sir whistle at him, standing up straight and covering his ass with one hand. 

“Come here,” said Sir. Now Morty’s hands were held in front of him, covering his partial erection from Sir’s view. The older man rolled his eyes and grabbed Morty’s wrist, pulling him closer to himself. “Are you going to listen and be a good boy, or do I have to take you over my knee again, Morty?”

“I’m going to be a good boy,” Morty answered, his head down.

“That’s what I thought. Come over here and lay down on your stomach.”

Nervously, Morty laid down on the bed. He stared at Sir while the older man grabbed the pillows off of the bed, and obeyed when he was asked to lift his hips and the pillows were shoved underneath them.

“Have you ever played with your ass, Morty? Ever put anything up there when you masturbate?” Sir asked calmly.

Morty watched him take something out of the drawer of the bedside table. “S-Sometimes,” he said, feeling his cheeks burn.

“Good. This should be a breeze, then.”

There came the _pop_ of a bottle opening and, after a moment, an intrusion of slick calloused fingertips against Morty’s sensitive hole. They circled and teased until the tension went out of Morty’s shoulders and he unclenched his hands. The slight pressure felt good, but it wasn’t enough.

“That’s good,” Sir cooed to him. “Just relax.”

Slowly but with firm pressure Sir slid one finger inside. Morty loved the heat of it, the intrusion. He made a grateful little noise, even as he was humiliated to be in this position. A blowjob was one thing, but wasn’t this more than a little slutty of him, just letting a practical stranger _finger his asshole_? Now that it was happening, though, Morty couldn’t even pretend to himself that he didn’t want it. A single finger was starting to feel like a tease, though, especially when Sir wasn’t paying any attention to his sweet spot.

“M-More,” he squeaked, shamefaced. He heard Sir give out a breathy chuckle.

“You’ll take what I give you, Morty. Don’t you ever try to rush me.”

Morty got what he wanted, though. His breath shuddered as a second finger entered him. And when they started to pump in and out he moaned loudly. He could feel himself being stretched deliciously. It was completely different from the sensation of his own ministrations. The feeling was thrilling. He was practically drooling, and he never wanted it to end. But he was starting to get frustrated that Sir was ghosting past his prostate without ever pressing against it directly. His dick was painfully hard, and he wanted to get off worse than he ever had before.

“Please, Sir,” Morty begged.

“Almost there, Morty.”

A third finger joined the first two. Morty squirmed until Sir put his hand on his back and pushed down, a clear sign to stay still. The stretch burned now, and Morty whimpered at the slight pain. His erection was starting to flag from the discomfort.

“There we go,” Sir said, though what he was satisfied with Morty didn’t know. 

He was nowhere close to getting off. He tried to look over his shoulder at Sir, but he couldn’t see anything appreciable. Then Sir’s fingers were retreating. They pulled out slowly, and Morty could have cried for their loss. Was Sir’s plan just to get him horny and then leave him here? He was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to bear that. A rustling sound cut through his panic. He counted his breaths, trying to focus on anything other than the fluttering feeling of his empty asshole. Then he felt something press against it, something much harder than Sir’s fingers had been. The toy slipped inside easily now that he was stretched, but it still made him feel overly full.

“What color are you right now, Morty?”

“Green.”

“Good. Come on, now, get up.”

Morty sat up very carefully, but he was starting to realize what torture this was going to be. He couldn’t think of anything but his filled ass, and every little movement he made had his dick twitching with interest. Sir snapped his fingers impatiently and beckoned him to get up, and Morty didn’t dare to disobey. Fawn-awkward as he tried for absolute conservation of movement, he rose to his feet.

“Stand there.”

Sir pulled a long black rope out of one of the bags and took his time halving it to find the center. He turned toward Morty and began to wind the rope around his body. He wove it in an intricate pattern of knots, pulling it taut around Morty but not cutting off his circulation. His movements were practiced and precise. Once the knots had moved down to Morty’s waist, Sir took his wrists and tied them up as well, pulling the ropes so his palms were pressed against his lower stomach. It felt strange and slightly uncomfortable, slightly off-balance. Morty pulled gently against the rope and it held fast.

“You look so good like that,” Sir sighed, standing back and admiring his handiwork. He pulled a phone out of his pocket and aimed it at Morty. “Say cheese, baby.”

Morty opened his mouth to protest, but before he could he heard the shutter sound go off. Belatedly he started to turn his body away from Sir, who reached out and stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. He held out the phone with the screen towards Morty, showing him the photo. Morty didn’t really think it was flattering, but Sir had made sure to keep his dick out of the frame. He relaxed a little. Sir seemed to read his body language and nodded, slipping the phone back into his pocket.

He turned back toward the bed and opened another bag. When he turned back toward Morty, he was holding a pair of gauzy pink panties with bows on the sides. 

“Oh, no no no no,” Morty said, shaking his head in disbelief.

Sir just bent over and held the garment open in front of Morty’s feet. 

“Step in,” he ordered.

“Do I have to?” God, Morty sounded whiney even to himself. He cringed at the sound of his own voice.

“I want you to,” was Sir’s even-keeled response.

Morty wavered. He’d always felt like he looked and sounded too feminine, even now that he was definitely, _definitely_ finished with puberty. He’d been teased mercilessly in school for being girly. He eyed the panties uncomfortably, and then his eyes flicked to Sir’s face. His expression was difficult to read under that mask, but whatever he might have been thinking his blue eyes looked steady and kind. Before he knew what he was doing, Morty stepped into the garment and let Sir pull it up and then fuss with the bows. At least the introduction of the panties had killed his boner. Thank god for small favors and all that.

“Good boy,” Sir praised, giving Morty a kiss on the temple.

He helped Morty sit down on the bed and dug into another bag. He knelt in front of Morty and pulled pink and black thigh high stockings out. With tender hands he pulled them on and up Morty’s legs, making sure they were on straight with the seams running up the back. Then he slipped knee high boots onto his feet, doing the buckles with quick, sure movements. He sat back for a moment, looking Morty up and down with a satisfied expression. His knees popped on the way back up and he breathed a little sigh. He pulled out the last bag.

“One last thing.”

From the bag, Sir withdrew a plain black collar that Morty was pretty sure was made of real leather. He showed Morty the little silver tag hanging from it that just said “S” in fancy script. Then he put it around Morty’s neck and tightened the strap. It was just slightly uncomfortably tight, but not badly enough to upset or scare Morty. The discomfort was just a constant faint whisper at the back of his mind. Sir clipped a chain leash onto the collar, and smiled at Morty with satisfaction.

“Perfect,” Sir said. “You look perfect, Morty.” 

“Aww geez, did I really have to get dressed up like this?”

“Yes.” Sir helped Morty stand up. “Now come on. I can’t wait to show you off.”

“ _Show me off_?!?” Morty asked, slightly panicked.

“You don’t think I took all that time dressing you up just to undress you again, did you?”

Morty hadn’t thought of that. “Sir, I-I’m not sure about this.”

Sir sighed. “I thought you were going to be good.”

Morty wasn’t sure that was very fair, but he _did_ want to please Sir. He groaned and took a step forward. “Fine,” he said. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Attitude,” Sir scolded. 

He opened the door out of the room and let Morty teeter out into the hallway before closing their belongings inside and leading him back into the club. Morty made a beeline for the VIP section, feeling eyes on himself from all sides. He got there ahead of Sir, but he had to wait for the older man to undo the rope gate because his hands were still tied to his waist. Sir put a hand on his back and helped steady him as he tottered up the three steps to the small lounge. The Dom settled back into his seat as if he hadn’t even gotten up, and he unclipped Morty’s leash. Morty moved to sit down, but Sir shook his finger at him.

“Ah ah ah. Turn around and show everybody how pretty you look,” Sir said. 

Glaring daggers at the floor, Morty spun around quickly. Sir shook his head. With a sigh, Morty did another spin, more slowly this time. Though he still kept his eyes downcast. Sir finally patted the bench next to him, and Morty hurriedly settled in. Sir threw an arm casually over his shoulders, which Morty was grateful for.

“Morty is _my_ new toy, so keep your hands off,” Sir warned, staring around the curved booth at the other VIPs for the night. “I’m not really in a sharing mood. Ever.”

Morty felt instantly guilty. Sir was sharing with Rick; he just didn’t know it yet. He shifted, though the movement was awkward considering that he couldn’t use his hands for balance, and the plug was making itself known inside of him. Sir caught him before he could tip over without even looking over at him.

“So, Morty,” said Sir, slouching back in his seat, “you were talking about Diogenes earlier. Why don’t you educate these plebs on the subject.”

“Aww, geez, Sir. I d-d-don’t know about that…”

Quick as a viper, Sir’s hand darted out and he grasped a fistful of Morty’s curls. Morty cried out in pain as Sir tilted his head back and leaned in so close that Morty could smell the whiskey on his breath. Morty cried out in his surprise and pain, his eyes squeezing tightly closed.

“Rethink what you were about to say to me,” Sir said, his voice low but icy. “I told you to do something, Morty.”

“Ah! Sorry! I’m sorry!”

“What are you sorry for?” Sir shook him by his hair, wringing a panicked whine out of him.

“I’m sorry I…” Morty couldn’t think, but he really, really didn’t want to get the answer wrong. “I’m sorry I said no?”

“Close, Morty. Think. Where are we?”

Morty cracked his eyes open and looked around. Every single person in the VIP section was staring right at him. He wanted to melt straight through the seat in shame. Sir was still leaned in dangerously close, his breath hot against Morty’s cheek.

“I’m sorry I disobeyed you in f-front of your friends?” he tried.

“Sorry _what_ , Morty?”

“Sorry S-S-Sir!”

Thankfully, the iron grip relaxed. Morty slumped forward in relief, laying his head on the table. There was a headache beginning at his temples. He felt a hand lay gently on his shoulder, and he turned his face toward Sir, who was looking down at him with a frown.

“Diogenes, Morty,” he said.

“Right.” Morty sat up and cleared his throat. “Uh...Diogenes w-w-was this philosopher in a-ancient Greece,” he stammered. 

He glanced at Sir, who was now reclining and staring at his phone. What the fuck. He was going to make Morty give a philosophy lecture and not even pay attention? Morty could feel himself getting heated, but he didn’t dare say anything. He had learned his lesson. But he vowed that he was going to complain when they were alone together. 

“Um. He was a C-c-c-cynic, which, you know. It’s not the same thing as--ah!!!”

Morty’s words were cut off by a yelp as he felt the toy in his ass begin to vibrate. Despite himself, he groaned loudly. He turned a helpless face toward Sir, who was staring back at him with a cocky smirk. Sir touched the screen of his phone, and the vibrations became more intense. Now Morty was hard again, desperately hard. His body felt jittery all over, his toes curling in his boots. Being immobilized and in public...this was torture. Sir was _torturing_ him. He couldn’t think. Well, he could think of one thing--how everyone was going to see the wet spot in the front of the goddamn panties from the precome he could feel already leaking from him. 

And yet, he wanted more. The vibrations were filling him with intense pleasure, but it wasn’t _enough_. If he could just get more contact, if it would just press against his prostate a little harder… But no matter how he fidgeted in his seat he couldn’t get the pressure he needed. His cock was throbbing and it was becoming clear that he wasn’t going to be getting off any time soon.

“Not the same thing as what?” Sir prompted him.

Fuck. Ok. Fuck. Morty cleared his throat. “Th-th-that’s a s-school of--of philosophy, n-not j-j-j-just being edgy or w-whatever. Cynics thought w-w-w-w-we should reject human s-society, like it’s a-artificial and bad.” He whimpered, looking at Sir. _Please let me be done now_.

“This is kind of boring,” a twinkish boy across the way complained. “Why don’t you finish that story you were telling earlier?” he asked Sir.

“Morty isn’t done talking,” Sir said with a deep frown. “Show some respect, Ryan.”

“Whatever. I’m going to get a drink. Anyone want a refresh?”  
As the other men and women in the booth vied to have Ryan take their drink orders, Morty leaned close to Sir. In desperation, he whispered to him.

“Sir, p-p-please.”

“Please what, Morty? I won’t understand what you mean if you’re not specific.”

“Please, _please_ turn--turn it off.”

“Are you using your safe word?”

Morty whimpered. He debated internally. Sir wanted to give him pleasure. Did he really want to turn that down? This was the game, and Morty was the one who got to decide whether or not he wanted to play it. The thought was empowering, and it calmed him down a little bit, evened out his breathing. He was in charge, ultimately. He was safe.

“No,” he said. His eyes may have been beading with tears, his hands shaking in their bindings, but he wanted to keep playing. “B-b-but if I _n-need_ to...to...if I’m _about_ t-to come, I’ll say y-yellow, ok?”

“You’re such a good boy, Morty.” Sir wiped a tear away from Morty’s eye. “Hold out as much as you can and then daddy will take good care of you.”

“O-o-ok.”

Sir leaned down and kissed Morty just below his jaw. Morty shivered.

“Anyway, Morty,” Sir said more loudly. “Diogenes.”

“R-r-right. H-he lived in--in a wine t-tub and--- _ooooh_.” The vibrations increased again and Morty cut himself off with a strangled moan. “He only owned a-a-a-a bowl and then he g-got rid of it ‘cause he s-saw s-s-someone drink from his hands, a-a-a-and…”

He was starting to go out of his mind. He rocked himself subtly--forward looking for friction, backward looking for stimulation. On both counts he found only frustration. Some of the other people at the table were starting to look at each other in confusion. Morty’s cheeks lit up in a blush, and he lowered his gaze.

“There are some pretty funny stories about Diogenes,” Sir prompted.

“Y-yeah.” Morty swallowed hard. He was seeing stars and struggling hard to remember anything at all from his class. He wished that he could rub himself under the table, but his hands were literally tied. “One t-t-t-t-time h-he… Well, P-Plato said man w-w-was a fe-featherless creature w-with two legs or something like th-th-that a-and…”

“Sir, he really doesn’t have to tell the story. He seems uncomfortable,” said a pretty black girl wearing a shiny patent leather harness over her dress. “It’s ok, hon,” she said to Morty with a kind smile.

“He can do it, Nadia. Can’t you, Morty?” 

“I-I-I can do it,” Morty confirmed. “Plato s-said that a-a-and Diogenes t-t-t-t-turned up with a--with a p-plucked chicken and he--he screamed ‘b-b-b-behold’ _oh god_ , uh, ‘behold a m-m-man.’”

Things were getting desperate for Morty. He was blatantly rocking in his seat now for the slight amount of extra pressure against his prostate. His breath was coming too hard, too fast. His head was swimming. His dick twitched uselessly, and he could feel the precome trickling out and making his panties wet. 

“Sir? I th-think I’m yellow, now,” he whined.

The relief was instantaneous, and yet Morty practically felt like crying to have the vibration back. He had begun to feel _so close_. When it had very first been inserted the plug had been overstimulating, and now it wasn’t nearly enough.

“Alright, bitches. Me and Morty have places to be,” Sir said to the little knot of VIPs.

He surprised Morty by scooping him up in strong arms, cradling him against his chest with one hand under his shoulders and the other under his knees. Morty felt his cheeks color. It was embarrassing to be manhandled like this in front of everyone, but he couldn’t pretend that he didn’t like it. Sir was clearly a lot stronger than he looked, and Morty felt himself falling for this blatant display of raw masculinity. And then he realized the other upside of being carried; folded in half like this and bundled up, his erection was hidden from prying eyes. Morty could practically cry from gratitude. He didn’t even mind when he saw someone pointing and laughing, because Sir instantly cowed the man with a withering stare. He just clung to Sir with his arms around his neck and let himself be carried down the little hallway to the private room.

Sir laid him down on his back on his bed. Morty, with his hands tied down, was helpless to sit up. Maybe he should work out his abs more often. Sir quickly took his phone back out, and Morty heard the shutter sound go off again.

“Aww geez, Sir, is this really a kodak moment?”

“I’ll delete it if you want me to, Morty.”

Morty hesitated. “You wouldn’t ever _show_ anyone, right?”

“Of course not. I don’t play well with others, Morty. I don’t share.” Sir actually looked hurt.

“Th-then it’s ok,” Morty said hurriedly.

And oh, boy, did Morty feel guilty. He both wanted to tell Sir about Rick right then and there and also to make sure that he never found out. Ever. The internal conflict was starting to make his erection flag, which was honestly something of a relief.

Sir seemed to notice. He thumbed at his phone for a moment, and the vibrations returned. Morty arched his back instantly, his hips thrusting against nothing.

“You look so pretty like that, Morty. Tell me how it feels, baby.”

“I c-can’t.” Morty could barely put those two words together, much less a cohesive thought. 

“Well, you’d better try if you want me to let you get off.”

Morty whimpered. He continued to rut into the air in desperation. “I’ve n-n-never wanted to c-come so bad in my life,” he heard himself saying. “Please, Sir, I c-c-c-can’t take any m-more. It’s so good it burns, but it’s _not enough_.” 

“Not enough?” Sir said in exaggerated surprise. He grinned wickedly as he turned the vibrations up. “How about now? Better?”

Morty screamed. He _actually_ screamed. He strained at his bonds uselessly, desperate to touch himself. His feet scrabbled at the bed, toes curling in his boots. His erection strained against his wet panties, and his ass clenched around the toy, which only made everything worse. And better. And worse. 

“Please,” he managed to say. That was it. That was all he could muster.

Sir sat calmly down on the edge of the bed. He smoothed his hand up Morty’s thigh calmly and rubbed little circles with his thumb until he stopped thrashing. Morty watched Sir’s face as his hand continued up and slipped inside his panties. His eyes fluttered closed and he rolled his hips upward into Sir’s firm grasp. Sir set a slow rhythm, stroking Morty and thumbing his slit. 

“That’s it, my good boy,” he soothed.

Morty began to cry in relief. Fat tears poured down his cheeks. “Thank you,” he sobbed. 

He fucked up into Sir’s hand, and Sir read Morty perfectly. He adjusted his grip and speed to be exactly what Morty needed. His breaths came fast and ragged until Sir smoothed his hand over his forehead, soothing Morty tenderly. 

It didn’t take long.

“I’m gonna--I’m gonna c-c-c-come,” Morty warned. He was so helpless, held literally in the palm of Sir’s hand. 

“Come for me, baby. I want to see what your face looks like when you come.”

 _Come for me_. There was something so hot about something so simple, as if Sir owned his orgasm. Morty didn’t even have the wherewithal to feel embarrassed about how he looked, he just arched and sobbed as the most powerful orgasm he’d ever felt tore through his body like a hurricane. It _hurt_ , but it felt so good that he could barely stand it. He screamed and babbled, his hands fisting in the sheets. Pulse by pulse pleasure left him until he was deflated and satisfied. 

Sir hurriedly turned off the vibrator, and Morty whimpered in gratitude. He was so overstimulated, aching on the inside and shaking all over. But at the same time he was exhausted and barely able to keep his eyes open. He felt like he’d run a marathon. His fingers and toes twitched at random intervals. He didn’t even mind the feeling of his come cooling inside the panties he was still wearing.

Sir’s strong hands were on him, then, rolling him onto his side. He pulled the panties down and, slowly and carefully, worked the vibrator out of Morty’s ass. He felt so empty with it gone, and he could actually feel his hole fluttering. Then Sir sat him up. Morty swayed but managed to stay upright. Sir’s nimble fingers untied the rope knot by knot until Morty was completely free. He flexed his fingers, surprised to find that he still had feeling in his hands. Blearily he watched Sir as he undressed him; boots, stockings, and collar all came off and disappeared into the shopping bags.

“Go get dressed and give me those,” Sir instructed, indicating Morty’s panties.

Morty wasn’t sure that he could do it by himself. He swung his legs over the edge of the mattress. They felt rubbery, but he managed to push himself to his feet and wobble over to his clothes. It felt amazing to peel off his last, soaked garment, but when he found Sir standing and waiting for it with his hand out he flushed deeply.

“They’re gross,” he mumbled apologetically.

“Don’t worry about it, baby.” Sir carefully folded them and put them in one of the shopping bags.

Morty slowly got dressed and found himself thankful for the warmth of his clothes, something he hadn’t even realized he’d been missing. Gingerly he sat back down on the bed.

“Sir? What would--what would you say if I wanted to date someone out...out there?” he blurted out, surprised at what had bubbled to the top of his hazy mind.

Sir narrowed his eyes at Morty. He frowned, but he didn’t quite look angry. More like thoughtful. Suspicious, maybe. 

“Why? Do you want to?” Morty saw his hands tightening at his sides.

“W-Well there’s someone who--who I think they like me,” Morty said nervously. His mind was flooded with stress chemicals. At least it was waking him up.

“Morty,” Sir said with a sigh. “I’m a jealous--I’m a real jealous bastard, Morty. But I’m not your little _boyfriend_. What we have between us...it belongs in here, in this building. In this room.”

“Oh.” Morty knew he had no right to be hurt by that, but he was. He had just let Sir touch him so intimately, and hearing that it was just a game to Sir made him feel like an unconscionable slut. “I mean, of course.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want--” Sir pressed his lips into a thin line. “Come to my house next week, Morty. Fuck it. Come to my house.”

Morty hesitated. That definitely wouldn’t solve his problem. What he had with Sir was undeniably powerful, but something in his heart wouldn’t let him give up on Rick, either. There was just something about the man that was impossible to give up. Maybe it was the way he had kissed him, maybe it was the warm feeling that filled Morty up when Rick acted nervous and shy around him. Whatever the reason, Morty selfishly wasn’t ready to let go of Rick yet. 

“O-ok,” he said. Might as well kick the problem down the road, right?

“Give me your number. I’ll call you with the specifics.”

“I could just text you right now?” Morty pulled his phone out of his pocket.

“No. Just...just give me your number, Morty.”

It seemed a strange way to do things, but he rattled his phone number off to Sir, who entered it into his phone. Morty expected him to call or text to confirm that the number was correct, but he just slipped the phone back into his pocket. After an awkward moment Morty put his own away, as well.

“I’ll see you again soon, then,” Sir said. He looked preoccupied and fidgety.

“Yeah. I guess I’ll see you again soon.”


	6. Chapter 6

Morty looked down the short hallway and out through the glass door. It was still raining, hazy with freezing droplets that streamed down. It would have been loud, but the beeps and dings of the arcade blocked out all other noise.

“Hey, kid! Your gatorade!” the man behind the counter said, holding out a cold drink to Morty. It was clear that this wasn’t the first time he’d tried to get Morty’s attention.

“Oh. Th-thanks,”Morty said sheepishly.

He took the drink and hurried to the small room that ensconced the Dance Dance Revolution machine. Rick was standing next to the dance pad already, his arms crossed and a deep frown weighing down his features.

“No way in fuck am I doing this,” he said as Morty came to rest beside him, shoulder to shoulder.

“Aww, c’mon, Rick. It’ll be fun.”

Morty secretly wanted to show off, but he would have felt bad just playing while Rick sat and watched him from one of the chairs set up behind the dance pad. 

Geeks Mania was the best arcade in town. There was an entrance fee to get in, but once you paid it you could play all the games to your heart’s content for as long as you wanted, no quarters required. It was the only affordable way to play DDR, so naturally Morty spent an embarrassing amount of his free time here. But it had a little bit of everything, really, including a huge room full of pinball machines and an old X-Men beat ‘em up game that was projected onto a wall and controlled from up to 6 pedestals. He and Rick had tried out a bunch of games already, mostly shooting and racing games. Rick had turned out to be both amazing at video games and almost obnoxiously competitive. But he was clearly trying to hold back and not rub Morty’s face in his wins as hard as he could have, and Morty appreciated that. Rick was still _trying_ for him. Morty had never had that before, and he had to admit that it gave him the warm fuzzies.

“No way. _No way_.”

Morty looked up at Rick and put on his best baby face. “Please? C’mon, Rick, it takes a lot of skill and stuff, you’ll get really into it if you try it.”

Rick frowned back at Morty, his expression cold and flinty. “Fuck you, Morty.”

“Does that mean yes?”

“If you take a _single_ photo of me doing this I’ll break your phone in half.”

Morty squealed and hugged Rick around his waist. The older man seemed to not know what to do with him for a moment before gently smoothing his hand over Morty’s curls. Rick smelled nice, clean and masculine. It was almost familiar, though he couldn’t place the scent exactly. Morty buried his face in Rick’s side and breathed deep. Rick’s strong arm fell across Morty’s back and he held him close for a moment.

“Come on, let’s get this over with before I change my mind,” Rick said gently.

Morty reluctantly pulled away and nodded. “We can take turns picking up songs.” 

The machine was loaded with every mix to date, and it took a long time and a lot of mild squabbling before they decided Rick would choose songs one and three, and Morty would only get to choose song number two. Morty helped Rick choose his difficulty and recommended that he speed up the arrows and flatten the colors. He set his own side up and then they were away. On the first song Rick’s difficulty was set to basic, and Morty could hear him getting progressively frustrated as the song went on by the sound of his crescendoing stomps. He was too busy keeping up with his own side and didn’t have a chance to look over, but he imagined Rick failing and fuming about it, but when they got their scores at the end Rick had earned an SSS rating.

“Morty, I’m not _five years old_ ,” he complained immediately. “I want to do what you’re doing or I quit.”

“Rick...I’m not sure about that.” Morty furrowed his brow nervously. He didn’t want to imagine what Rick would be like when he failed a song on Heavy difficulty.

“I can do anything you can do, you little shit.”

“Fine. It’s my pick.” Morty scrolled through the songs until he found a fluffy J-pop song of a moderate difficulty. Rick wasn’t stupid. If Morty chose a song that was too simple, he would know that Morty was taking it easy on him and Morty was willing to bet he would hate that. This way Morty could just claim to like this type of music--which wasn’t entirely untrue.

Since the song was easier and they were both on the same difficulty Morty could actually screenwatch Rick a little bit this time. Astonishingly, Rick was holding his own. He even built up a respectable combo toward the middle of the song. When it was over, Rick leaned back against the bar and grinned over at Morty.

It absolutely wasn’t fair.

“You’ve played before,” Morty accused. And if he was pouting a little? Well, that was his own business.

Rick just laughed. “Bet you’re regretting twisting my arm now! It’s my first time, I swear.”

Morty shook his head and sighed. Was everything going to be like this? Rick seemed to be good at everything he set his hand to. It was infuriating.

And maybe kind of sexy.

“Whatever, Rick. Just pick the last song.”

Rick took his time scrolling through the music, and finally settled on a pulse-raising instrumental track--PARANOiA Revolution. 

“Oh geez, Rick, are you sure? I don’t even know if _I_ can beat this song.”

“Don’t be a pussy, Morty. This is the song I want. You made me play this dumb game, and it’s my pick.”

Without another word Rick selected the song. Morty leaned back, bracing himself against the bar. He didn’t normally like to do that; it felt like cheating. But this song was absolutely frenetic, and he needed every bit of help he could get if he wanted to pass it. From the get-go their footfalls came so fast that it sounded like rumbling thunder. By the end of the song Morty’s legs were jello, and he lowered himself onto the dance pad, panting. Rick was breathing hard, too, but he kept his feet.

The scores came up. Morty: C. Rick?

B

“Goddamnit!” Morty burst out. “How is that even possible?”

“I’m amazing, that’s how.” Rick snickered. “Come on, Morty, don’t be a sore loser.”

“It’s not a competition, Rick!”

“Everything’s a competition, Morty.”

“Whatever.” 

Morty grabbed his gatorade from where he’d left it on the side of the machine and drank about half of it in one go. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and looked over at Rick. He was still grouchy, but he offered the bottle to him anyway. Rick’s brow went up. He accepted the drink and polished off the rest of it, sighing in contentment when he was done. His expression was much softer now, and he reached out his hand towards Morty, who slipped his own palm into it automatically. 

“Come on, babe. I know what we should do next,” Rick said. He led Morty out of the room, and for once Morty was glad to be leaving the DDR machine behind.

They went one door over to a long room whose walls were lined with pinball machines--perhaps twenty or so in total. The machines pinged and sang and flashed, but there was no one but them in the room to see it. Morty looked up at Rick and arched his eyebrow.

“Are you a pinball wizard, Rick?”

“Shut the fuck up, Morty. And don’t disrespect the greats.” Rick tapped his chin and looked around the room. “This one, come on.”

He grabbed Morty by the arm and dragged him over to one of the machines. Morty was surprised and thrown off balance, and he stumbled and grabbed onto the machine to keep himself from falling. It was playing loud theremin music, and had motifs of aliens and stars all over it. The sign showed a flying saucer sucking up a cow and the title: Area 51 Attacks. Rick seemed amused, chuckling to himself as he studied the contents of the game.

“Wanna bet I can roll over this machine?”

“Roll the--what does that mean, Rick?” He looked down at his hands shyly. He really didn’t like looking stupid in front of Rick. Like, even less than he liked looking stupid in front of other people.

“Roll over the machine. See the dial that counts up the score? I bet I can get a score so high that it turns back to zeroes.”

“Oh. Geez, Rick, that sounds hard.”

“It is.”

In the neon glow of the game Rick’s eyes looked positively manic as he pulled the plunger back and released his first ball. Morty quickly became unsure of which he would rather watch--the ball careening wildly around the board, the score counter counting up and up and up, or Rick’s increasingly wolfish grin. He was leaning forward slightly, his hands braced against the machine, fingers moving casually over the buttons even as his score mounted and Morty felt his own suspense and tension build. Rick was on his last ball as the counter read 9 million, and Morty found himself holding his breath. Nine point five. Nine point eight…

0! 

Morty leapt up and cheered. He threw himself at Rick and pressed a crushing kiss to his lips. Rick stiffened at first but quickly put his arms around Morty and corrected his clumsy ministrations, slowing and deepening their kiss. Morty pulled back, breathless, and grinned.

“That was pretty s-sexy, Rick.”

“Geez, you’re easy,” Rick demured, but he was grinning right back. “Well? What are you waiting for? You’re up.”

“Me?! Oh, no, Rick. I’m terrible at pinball.”

Rick turned him around toward the machine and put his hands on his shoulders. “Give it a try. I promise not to laugh. Much.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Rick kissed the crown of his head. “Smart kid.”

“That’s not really helping me feel more comfortable, here,” Morty groused.

Despite his protests, Rick just pulled back the plunger and released the first ball. In a panic Morty’s hands flew to the buttons, and he did what he usually did when trying to play pinball--smashed them as fast and hard as he could when the little silver ball approached the flippers. It wasn’t long before he lost the first one. Rick stepped up behind him. He pulled back the plunger again, and put his arms around Morty, laying his hands over Morty’s.

“Lesson one? Ball control,” he said into Morty’s ear. “Don’t just smash the buttons. Let me show you.”

Rick’s chest rumbled against Morty’s back as he spoke, and Morty felt his dick take interest. That was _definitely_ not going to help his playing. The ball approached the flippers again, and Rick pushed Morty’s fingers into the button gently. The flipper came up at just the right speed to catch the ball, which stayed trapped in the little v they had made.

“Ok. We’re gonna pass the ball to the other flipper, now. Don’t get twitchy.”

“Oh geez,” Morty said. It felt like he’d been told he was about to defuse a bomb.

Even with Rick’s hands trying to guide his, Morty fumbled the ball. He hissed out a curse. Rick kissed him on the temple.

“Close. Try it again,” Rick said.

Morty had honestly expected to be laughed at, and he found that his gut was suddenly flaming with the desire to make Rick proud. He pulled the plunger himself this time, and it barely took any guidance for him to catch the ball. Chewing on his lower lip the whole time, he let Rick help him transfer it from one flipper to the other.

“It goes slow-fast-slow,” Rick said, coaching him. “You’ve gotta move both sides at once. That’s it! You got it! Alright, Morty!”

Morty looked up at Rick over his shoulder, and he started to let go of the button by mistake. If quick-thinking Rick hadn’t pressed his finger down on it he would have lost the ball.

“S-Sorry,” Morty said, whipping his head back around. He felt Rick shrug.

“It’s your game, baby.”

_Baby_. The pet name coiled warmly around Morty’s heart.

“Rick?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you...could you come over? After this? I’m pretty sure Adrian’s at his girlfriend’s place today, and…”

Rick cleared his throat, and Morty felt him pull his body subtly away from his own. “Y-Yeah, I guess I could come up to your nasty little dorm room for a while,” he said gruffly.

Morty’s heart was thundering so hard that he couldn’t hear the pinball machines anymore over the rush of blood in his ears. He felt Rick’s hands moving his own over the buttons, but the game was just a blur of colored lights in front of his eyes. He had no idea where he’d gotten the balls to even ask that, and he had no idea what to make of Rick’s acceptance. Was he thinking that Morty was just an easy little piece of tail, now? As a matter of fact, wasn’t Morty really just _being_ an easy little piece of tail? Well, no one said anything had to happen. It was just--

“Morty?” Rick said, and it was clear from his tone that it wasn’t his first try to get Morty’s attention. He stepped back away from him and Morty turned to face him. Apparently the pinball game was over.

“Y-Y-Yeah, Rick?”

“I said...maybe we should go.”

Outside the rain was still pouring down, and even though they ran to Rick’s car they were still soaked to the skin with frigid autumn rain by the time Morty let them into his dorm room, both shivering and panting. Adrian was out, just as Morty had expected. He locked the door behind himself, taking a moment to lean his forehead against it and just breathe. Before he could calm down, though, Rick’s hands were on him. He held him around the waist for a moment and then his hands dipped under Morty’s shirt and he started to push it up.

“Let’s get you out of these wet clothes,” Rick murmured in his ear.

_Oh shit, oh shit_. They were going to fuck, they were _really_ going to fuck.

Morty’s first time.

He was nervous. Sir had touched him intimately, sure, but here he was about to _get fucked_ by Rick. He turned in Rick’s arms. Somehow in the familiar light of his dorm room Rick looked smaller to Morty, less mythic and more human. He put his hands over Rick’s stopping him from pulling his shirt the whole way off.

“R-R-R-Rick?” he stammered. “I’m--can we--um…” He took a deep breath. “I’m a virgin.”

Rick took his hands off of Morty as if the boy were made of hot iron. “We don’t have to,” he said awkwardly. He couldn’t quite meet Morty’s eyes.

“No! No, I want to,” Morty said quickly. To prove his point he took off his wet shirt and threw it aside. He took Rick’s hands and put them back around his waist. 

Rick surged forward and pressed his lips to Morty’s in a breath stealing kiss. “I’ll be gentle,” he promised.

Morty could have died happy just from hearing that--it was like something out of a movie, and he was really getting to live it. He watched in greedy fascination as Rick shucked off his lab coat and shirts all in one go. He only had a few seconds to appreciate his surprisingly taut, lean-muscled frame before Rick was on him again. Their cold bodies pressed together as Rick kissed him. He wrapped his long arms around him and held him close, his fingers tracing the line of Morty’s spine. Morty’s own fingers dug into Rick’s back; he was weathering the assault on his lips like trying to ride out a hurricane. When Rick broke away panting Morty whimpered.

“I’ve been wanting this, Morty.” 

Rick slowly sank to his knees. He unbuttoned Morty’s jeans and pulled them down along with his boxers. Morty’s erection sprang free and he groaned as Rick immediately took him into his hot mouth. He couldn’t keep himself from burying his hands in Rick’s damp hair, and he took the hum that rumbled through his skin as assent and gripped harder. Rick’s tongue was clever and agile, roaming over Morty’s cock, flicking and caressing in all the right places. Morty laid his head back against the door and moaned loud and long. His breath started to hitch in needy little gasps as Rick bobbed his head. 

“Rick...ah--Rick, Rick, stop.” He tugged on Rick’s hair urgently.

Rick slid off of him and looked up and _goddamnit_ he looked so good with Morty’s dick resting against his cheek, those blue eyes hazy with lust. “Do you want me to--”

Morty shook his head vigorously. “I’m gonna c-c-come if you keep doing that,” he said. He felt his cheeks flushing.

Rick chuckled softly. He stood up. Morty, feeling very embarrassed, indeed, kept his eyes on the floor. Rick took him by the chin and gently tilted his head up. The bottom dropped out of Morty’s stomach as he looked into Rick’s eyes; they were soft, longing. Rick leaned down until his lips brushed Morty’s--just barely. Just the ghost of a touch, and warm breath scented with whiskey.

“I need you, Morty,” he murmured. “I can’t stop thinking about you, all the time.” His other hand came up, and he gently touched Morty just under the line of his jaw. 

Morty made a small noise. “Rick,” he murmured, and then Rick’s lips captured his.

Their kiss was soft but deep, tongues pulsing against each other as their jaws worked. Morty’s shaking hands fumbled between them, managing to open Rick’s belt. The older man’s moan covered the quiet clanking of the buckle.

“Fuck,” he panted against Morty’s lips. “Morty--you’re gonna give me a heart attack.”

“I w-want you, too, Rick,” Morty murmured. “Please, Rick. I want you to f-fuck me.”

“ _Shit_ ,” Rick groaned. “Ok, kid. I’m gonna make you feel real good.” He paused. “Please tell me you have lube or something.”

Morty flushed crimson. “It’s in the nightstand behind you. A-A-And condoms.” The box of them was still wrapped in plastic. How humiliating.

“Right. Condoms. Take your fucking pants off.” 

Rick stole another brief kiss and then turned to dig around in the nightstand. Morty hurriedly kicked off his shoes and his damp jeans. He took two steps towards the bed when Rick’s hand in the middle of his chest stopped him. Rick backed him into the door again. He pressed the lube and condom into Morty’s hand and dipped his head into the crook of Morty’s neck, sucking and biting at his sensitive skin until Morty couldn’t help but lay back his head and groan. Morty was still nervous, but he wanted to prove to the both of them that he was ready for this, so while Rick nuzzled against his pulse Morty slipped his hand into Rick’s loosened pants.

Oh. _Oh shit_.

Rick was _huge_. Long and girthy. Rick moaned against Morty’s neck as Morty felt up and down his length. God, what had he gotten himself into? Rick’s cock was way bigger than any of the petite toys Morty had ever used, including the little vibrator Sir had tortured him with last week. As Rick ran his fingers up Morty’s side he pushed _that_ particular thought out of his mind. He didn’t want to think of anyone else; in this moment he only wanted Rick. He turned his head and breathed in the clean, sweet scent of Rick’s hair. His hand moved over Rick’s weighty erection, fingers mapping out the contours of it. As Morty thumbed at his slit, Rick’s breathing turned ragged. He hurriedly pushed his pants down around his knees, moving back up to kiss Morty’s lips. He tried to take the condom out of Morty’s hand, but Morty moved it away.

“I...I want to do it,” he said shyly.

“Oh my _god_ , Morty. Fuck. You’re killing me over here.”

Rick took the bottle of lube out of his hand, but left the condom. Morty struggled a little with the packet, but he opened it and let the two halves fall to the ground. When he got the condom out, though, he felt even more lost than he had before it was open. Rick was already lubing up his fingers when Morty looked up at him with his brows knit. Rick rolled his eyes and smiled softly.

“Turn it the other way. Good. Now pinch the tip a little bit before you roll it on.”

Rick thrust forward into Morty’s hands a little as he rolled the condom down his length. He just barely had a second to be proud of himself for getting it on the whole way before Rick was lifting him up, slamming his back against the door. Morty yelped and reflexively put his legs around Rick’s waist. Rick held him up with one arm. The lubed fingers of his other hand immediately went to the cleft of Morty’s ass, and after only a moment of teasing he was slipping two inside. Morty whimpered and angled his hips to give Rick better access.

“Mm. Eager little thing, aren’t you? I like that,” Rick purred.

Morty felt helpless. Rick seemed to have no trouble holding him up, especially not with Morty’s thighs clamped around his waist. Rick craned upwards to kiss Morty while he fingered him slowly. Morty felt the drag of each tiny thrust, a slick slide over his prostate. He shifted his hips and whined. He was impatient. His dick was starting to leak precome as he closed his eyes and imagined what it would feel like when Rick’s cock was doing the same thing. He put his arms around Rick and hid his face in his neck.

“Hurry,” he begged. “I want--I wanna feel you inside of me.”

The rhythm of Rick’s fingers stuttered for a moment. “Jesus Christ. Yeah, baby. Beg for it--I like that.”

A third finger pushed its way inside of Morty, forcing a whining sound out of him. He felt so full just from that, and he knew that it was only going to get better from here.

“Please, Rick, please--” Morty cut himself off with a strangled cry as Rick punched against his prostate. “Please, I need you to fuck me. Need it so bad, Rick.”

“I dunno, baby.” There was a clear grin in Rick’s voice, even if Morty couldn’t see it. He tightened his grip on Morty and began to jackhammer his fingers into him. His lips found Morty’s ear, and he spoke just loud enough to be heard over Morty’s ululating keen. “I’m pretty big, Morty. If I go in right now I’ll split you in half.”

“Don’t care!” Morty wailed. His legs were shaking, and he struggled to hold himself up. “Don’t care, please, please fuck me, _please_ Rick!”

Rick’s hand slowed gradually, and he dragged his fingertips over Morty’s prostate in little circles as he spoke into his ear. “Then you gotta relax for me, baby. Relax…” He sucked on Morty’s earlobe gently. “Shh...that’s it. There you go. Just breathe.”

Rick didn’t make another move until Morty had slowed his breathing. When he withdrew his fingers he replaced them immediately with the head of his dick lined up against Morty’s entrance. For a second Morty started to tense up again in fearful anticipation, but before he could clench Rick was pushing inside. It hurt, and Morty’s body tightened reflexively. 

“Keep breathing with me, Morty. It’s gonna feel better, but you gotta trust me here, ok?” Rick’s voice was gentle, and he placed small, warm kisses behind Morty’s ear.

Morty clung to Rick’s shoulders. “I trust you,” he said in a small, watery voice. 

Rick held Morty tightly, one steadying hand on his hip as he slowly thrust upwards, sliding inch by inch into Morty’s body. Morty arched his back and whimpered. He couldn’t help his breaths coming quick as he struggled to acclimate to the stretch. Rick cooed sweet words to him the whole time. Then, suddenly, it stopped. Morty tilted his head back up and looked at Rick questioningly.

“It’s all in. You did so good, Morty.” Rick’s expression flickered; he seemed to be struggling with something. “Relax. I need you to relax.”

“I’m trying.”

“The point is to not try, baby.” 

Morty was about to protest when Rick leaned his head down and laved his hot tongue over Morty’s nipple. Morty _did_ relax, then, as Rick’s tongue wrung a groan out of him. Rick nudged his hips back and forth a little, and _there it was_ , the pleasure he had been promised. He reflexively dug his nails into Rick’s shoulders as he moaned his appreciation, making Rick hiss approvingly. He apparently took it as the permission that it was, because he began to thrust slowly and deeply into Morty while he sucked gently on his nipple. Morty was immediately overwhelmed. His dick pulsed and dripped precome. He heard himself sobbing.The bliss was already unbearable. 

“Fuck, I love the sounds you make,” Rick gritted out. He drove into Morty harder and faster, all the while his fingers were digging into Morty’s flesh with bruising intensity.

“Please, Rick,” Morty begged. He had no idea what he was begging for.

“Mm. That’s right, baby. Say my name, _fuck_.”

“Riiiiiick,” Morty wailed again. “Please, I can’t take it.”

“Yes you can, Morty.” 

Rick groaned as he slowed down. His hands ran up Morty’s back, forcing him to arch. The new angle felt even better. Morty keened as he writhed in Rick’s arms. Every long, slow stroke had Rick’s cock gliding over his prostate. The slick drag was heavenly. He felt so _full_ in a way that he never had before; maybe it was something about the warmth inside of him. His eyes lost focus, his toes were curling, he--

He heard the jingling of keys from the other side of the door. Fuck. He looked at Rick in a panic, as if he could do something to fix it. Rick just grinned a toothy grin and thrust into him hard.

“A-A-Adrian?” he stammered, as loud as he dared.

“Uh...yeah? Morty?” came the answer from the other side of the door.

“You n-need to go a-- _oh fuck_ …” Morty tried to glare at Rick, but the way he was pistoning his hips was driving Morty completely insane and he couldn’t muster a frown. “You need to go away f-f-for a while,” he managed after a moment.

There was a long pause. “Dude, are you having sex right now?”

Morty was struggling to catch his breath. “M-Maybe,” he said. God, this was humiliating. Rick wouldn’t stop thrusting into him, and despite the fact that he was _talking to his fucking roommate_ , Morty’s dick was hard and twitching.

“Ok, gross. Tell me all about it later.”

Morty was relieved to hear footsteps retreating in the hallway. He didn’t have time to think about it, though, because Rick was slamming into him now, a feral look in his eyes as they roamed over Morty’s face.

“Fuck, baby, you’re all pink. I love you all cute like this,” Rick groaned. “And you’re so _tight_.”

“Rick, please. Please, I wanna come so bad,” Morty whimpered. “Please, _please_. You feel too good.”

Rick craned his neck and kissed Morty ravenously. Morty moaned into his mouth. He tilted his hips and accidentally found an angle that made him see white. Pleasure was electric in his limbs. His thighs trembled. He wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer. Rick’s lips left his and he began to kiss his throat, sucking at the skin. Morty couldn’t take anymore. He reached between them to seize his own cock, jacking himself off furiously. The rhythm of Rick’s hips was beginning to falter.

“So close, so close, so close,” Morty whimpered mindlessly. 

“Come on, come for me Morty. Wanna--wanna feel it.”

And that was enough. Morty felt the dam burst inside of him. The syrupy heat of orgasm pulsed through him, and he coated both of their chests. He could feel himself clenching around Rick, whose thrusts stuttered until he chased down his own pleasure, promising Morty ‘almost, almost.’ He grunted when he came, and leaned his forehead against Morty’s shoulder while he caught his breath. 

When his shoulders stopped heaving he carefully pulled out. He slowly lowered Morty to his feet, but Morty’s legs gave out immediately and he sank to the floor. Rick took the condom off, tied a knot in it, and tossed it carelessly behind him. After pulling up and buttoning his pants, he settled on his knees, straddling Morty’s lap, and kissed him again.

“Was it good for you?” Rick asked Morty quietly.

Morty nodded. He was still panting. Rick kissed him behind the ear.

“Are you...are you glad it was with me?” Rick’s eyes searched Morty’s, and he looked so small and insecure that Morty felt compelled to reach out and touch his cheek fondly.

“Yeah, Rick. I really am. You made it wonderful.”

Rick put his hand over Morty’s and turned his head to press a kiss into his small palm. “Morty, I…” He pressed his eyes shut and blew out a shuddering breath. “This all means something. To me. I’m not here for a quick fuck, I--”

“Will you be my boyfriend?” Morty blurted out, surprising both of them. His brow knitted in regretful fear when he saw the shocked look in Rick’s eyes.

“I’m not exactly prime boyfriend material,” Rick said, his voice heavy and thick. “I’m old, I’m jealous, I’m--”

“I kind of noticed th-those things already, Rick,” Morty said, desperately trying to salvage the situation.

“Then...why?”

“I just let you take my virginity, Rick. Because I _like_ you, ok? I’ve...I’ve never had a boyfriend before, but I really want you to be mine. Except, there’s one thing I have to take care of first.”

“What is it?”

Morty shook his head. “I’ll tell you all about it once it’s over. Just...it’s something important to me that I have to do for myself.”

Rick kissed Morty’s hand again. “Ok. Take care of your thing and then we can--we can be together.”

Morty smiled. “I’m so happy, Rick.”

“Yeah, kid. Me, too.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning in endnotes

Morty and Adrian stood beside each other, both with their hands on their hips, both looking at the crack in the wood under the corner of their top bunk.

“They’ll charge us if we call maintenance. I’m telling you, dude,” Adrian reiterated.

“I dunno. I m-mean, we obviously don’t have to tell them that you were...you know,” he said. A faint flush rose in his cheeks.

Adrian snickered. “That it broke when I was fucking? Jesus, man, you can’t even say it? You’re getting with _two guys_ now.”

“I’m not ‘getting with’ Sir,” Morty groused.

“I’m pretty sure that letting him put a vibrator in your ass in front of a whole club is--ow!” Adrian rubbed his ear where Morty had just flicked him. “Ok, ok. But it’s true--you’ve got _two dudes_ on your hook.”

“I know,” Morty groaned miserably.

Adrian picked up a power drill from his desk and held a screw against the splintered bed. The plan was to reinforce the cracked area with screws and thus keep the bunk from falling on Morty in his sleep and crushing him to death. Morty wasn’t so sure this was going to work out, but he didn’t feel confident enough to shut Adrian down, so they were just going to proceed.

“I can’t believe you’re fucking a guy who’s old enough to be your grandpa.” Adrian’s words were coarse, but his tone wasn’t cruel.

“You saw him! He’s...he’s…” Morty’s mind ran away with itself far, far too quickly, and before he could stop it he was letting out a dreamy sigh.

Adrian cracked up. “Oh man, warn a guy! I was about to turn on the drill.”

“Sh-sh-shut up.” Morty crossed his arms and turned his burning face away.

“Yeah, ok. He kind of had a poor-man’s-GQ thing going on.” The drill whined to life and the first screw disappeared into the wood. “If I had to be into old dudes all of a sudden I wouldn’t turn him down.”

“It was like a movie,” Morty said. He’d already gushed about his encounter with Rick, but he wasn’t above doing it again. “I didn’t think p-people really did it up ag-against the wall like that.”

“‘People’ don’t. But apparently _Rick_ does.” Adrian playfully mimicked Morty’s lovestruck tone. 

The drill whirred again, but Adrian stopped and frowned. He didn’t push the second screw through. 

“Dude, I think you have to lift up the corner of the mattress. It’s bowing a little.”

“Oh geez, that doesn’t sound good.”

Morty was almost too short to do it, but he stepped up next to Adrian and lifted the mattress just as he’d been directed to do. It really _had_ been bowing. He was becoming less and less on board with this insane DIY that Adrian had insisted on.

“Anyway, I’m glad your first time was good,” Adrian said. He drove another screw into the wood.

Morty wasn’t sure that he wanted to be talking about this anymore now that they were standing so close together. It seemed that closing the meter of space between them had infinitely multiplied his embarrassment.

“Uh, yeah…” he said, chuckling nervously. “Yeah, it was great…”

“My first time sucked, dude. We were in her dad’s car and there was, like, _no_ space in the back seat. And then I blew after about thirty seconds. We broke up a week later, too.”

“I wish I had lost it in high school like everyone else...I was such a lonely l-loser…”

“Hey. If you had lost it in high school then you wouldn’t have lost it with Rick.” Adrian gave Morty a reassuring look before the drill interrupted them again. “It sounds like it was worth waiting for.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Morty felt an impulse to wring his hands together, but he couldn’t let go of the mattress. “No, you know what? Y-you’re right. It was way better than what I’d imagined, all because of Rick.”

“I’m not gonna sit here and say you were lucky in high school or anything like that. I mean, it sounds like it generally sucked.” _Whirr_ , the drill started up again. “Anyway. You _looooove_ Rick, so yeah. It’s better this way.”

Morty had thought he couldn’t get any more embarrassed, but he felt his flush traveling down his neck. “Sh-sh-sh-shut up.” He meant that to have far more bite than it actually did. “I didn’t say I _love_ him.”

“Dude. We all love the first person we do it with. It’s a law of nature or something.” Adrian turned slightly to look Morty in the eye. “ _That’s_ what you should tell ‘Sir.’”

Morty groaned. He didn’t want to think about this again. “I don’t know. D-d-do you think he would buy it?”

“Does it really matter? You never have to see him again after you let him down easy.” Adrian pushed another screw into the bedframe. “Frankly, you should just text and then block.”

“You d-don’t understand,” Morty said miserably. “Sir’s i-important to me, too. He…”

“Got you off?”

“Shut up. Sorry I’m not jaded,” Morty muttered.

“Whatever works for you, man.”

“I don’t _know_ what works for me! I’ve never done this before!”

“Yeah, well, neither have I.”

Morty shifted his weight. His arms were starting to get tired. “You’ve had normal breakups though. You’ve gotta help me out,” he pleaded.

Adrian sighed. “Alright. So you don’t wanna text and you don’t wanna ghost. That leaves one option: you gotta be honest, dude.”

“I was hoping you were gonna say ‘just let him down easy, Morty. Make some shit up, Morty,’” he said, slightly mimicking Adrian’s laid back voice.

“Quit being a doofus,” Adrian laughed. “If you’re gonna make something up, that’s not any more respectful than doing it over text.”

“I guess n-not.”

“So just be honest. The dude’s like 70 years old, he’s been broken up with a million times. No sweat.”

Adrian stood back and gazed at his handiwork. Morty gently set down the corner of the mattress. As soon as he did, the wood bowed again, possibly worse than it had been before. Morty frowned at it.

“I’m calling facilities,” Morty announced. “No way I’m s-sleeping underneath that.”

***

Morty pulled his coat tighter around himself. It always seemed colder after dark, and even though his phone said it was 45 degrees out he was shivering in the light sprinkle. He walked his bike up the steep driveway and parked it behind some bushes near the corner of the sprawling house. It had taken him forever to bike out here, far longer than he had expected, and now he was frozen and--more importantly-- _late_. Breathing into his hands, he hurried to the front door and rang the bell.

It took so long for anyone to answer that Morty was regretfully considering getting on his bike and heading back home by the time the door opened. Sir was fumbling his mask on and--

Wait. His _mask_? Morty was allowed to come to his house but not to see his face? Got, that was suspicious. Morty edged backwards from the door. Should he make a run for it? This was _definitely_ weird.

“You’re late. I thought you weren’t coming,” Sir said gruffly.

Run away. Run away. _He’s going to chop you up into little pieces and eat you for dinner_. “It t-t-t-t-took me l-longer than I th-th-thought. On my bike.” Morty let out a hollow, awkward chuckle.

“You biked here?” Sir asked, visibly surprised. “Get in here. You must be freezing.”

Morty hesitated. The light pouring out onto the front step seemed warm. He was drawn to it. “A-alright.”

If he wound up dead it was his own stupid fault.

He was ushered into a tall foyer with a chandelier hanging in the center, reflecting off of a polished checkerboard floor. Directly underneath was a round table with a starburst of tulips on top. They must have been grown in a hothouse--they were dramatically out of season.

Wordlessly, Sir took Morty’s coat. Morty had to dress for warmth, and he had been nervous about looking shabby inside Sir’s own home, so he was wearing his mustard yellow cashmere sweater. When Sir came back from hanging Morty’s coat in a little alcove by the door, he watched him look him over. The corner of Sir’s mouth twitched up as his eyes lingered on the sweater. Morty put his arms around himself self-consciously. He knew it wasn’t exactly the most modern color, but his…

Morty wrinkled his nose, suddenly faced with a vague grey area in his memory. His mom had gotten the sweater for him, right? She must have. He remembered someone handing it to him under the Christmas tree. Mom knew that yellow was his favorite color. So it must have been her.

Weird.

“Come on, Morty,” Sir said, and Morty snapped out of his little reverie and followed.

Sir led him down a hallway with rooms branching off to the left and right. They took a corner and entered a large, low room. There was a hearth with a fire crackling in it, and heavy wooden bookcases lined the walls. Morty was ushered into an overstuffed armchair in front of the fire, and Sir sat down in a matching one across from him. Morty was drawn by the fire, leaning forward in his chair. His ass was still feeling cold and numb from the bike ride but his toes and fingers were quickly thawing out in the sudden warmth. For a few moments he forgot everything else--until Sir cleared his throat.

“Your text said you wanted to talk to me about something,” he said, his voice level and calm.

Morty looked down at his hands. “Y-yeah…”

The fire popped. Morty watched sparks fly up from the logs and drift up the flue.

“Well?”

“I have a boyfriend now,” Morty blurted out.

There it was. He squeezed his eyes closed and hunched over, waiting as if for a blow to fall. He heard ice ringing in a glass--Sir must have been having a drink before Morty showed up.

“So?”

Morty sat up, too surprised to keep himself from looking at Sir. “So? So...so w-w-we can’t do this anymore,” he said, growing quieter and more awkward as time went on. “My boyfriend is...he’s kind of jealous, you know?”

“I don’t give two shits about your boyfriend, Morty.” Sir took a sip of his scotch and put the glass back on the little table beside his chair. “I don’t care who he is, I don’t care what he thinks. I can fuck you a thousand times better than he can, and we both know it."

Sir got up from his chair and came to kneel between Morty's knees. He reached into the pocket of his black slacks and pulled out a small velvet box. There was a burning intensity in his eyes as he handed it over to Morty.

Morty almost couldn't open it. His heart was in his throat and he was choking on it. He struggled for each breath as he flipped the lid open. Inside was nestled a silver locket, the surface covered in filagree with a large 'S' in the center in flowing script. Morty stared for a while; he was confused, and he also was trying not to think about how much it must have cost.

"It's a day collar," Sir explained unprompted. "We'll both know it means that you belong to me, but it looks innocuous."

At least it wasn't a ring.

"I can't accept this," said Morty. He shoved it away from himself, back into Sir’s hands. His mouth was suddenly dry. this voice had fled, leaving behind a pale imitation. "I'm with Rick now. He's...kind of a jealous guy."

"What he doesn't know won't hurt either of you."

"But…"

Sir rose higher on his knees. He caressed Morty's hair for a moment before pulling his head back sharply by a fistful of curls, baring his throat. Morty hissed in pain. 

"But you _want_ me to hurt you, don't you, Morty? You want daddy to ride you hard and put you away wet."

"S- sir," Morty whined.

Sir pressed his lips against Morty's throat. "Say it," he demanded. "Tell me how much you want me."

"This isn't right," Morty squeaked. He tried to remember what he had planned to say. His head was swimming. Sir's breath was hot against his neck. "I I-love him. Rick. I love Rick."

Sir scoffed. "Then why are you even here?"

" I thought you deserved to know."

Sir's hand crept up Morty's thigh and groped him lewdly. "Then why," he repeated, “are you getting hard?" 

Morty whimpered. He tried to close his legs but Sir wrenched them open again. "I can't help it! You're -- you're _touching me_ and…"

Sir laughed, a low chuckle that reverberated in his chest. "Little boy," he lilted,"I haven't even gotten started. What color are you, Morty?"

"Yellow," Morty stammered before he could even think about it. 

Sir massaged Morty's burgeoning erection through his pants. Morty whimpered and fought to keep his head above water. This was wrong. Guilt was gnawing at his ribcage. But his blood was rushing south, and his rational mind was going with it. This wasn't fair. If he were older, if he were more experienced, if he were _anyone else_ he would have been able to throw Sir off of himself and just leave. But he wasn’t any of those things. He was timid and vulnerable. As much as he just tried to think of Rick, the hot breath in his ear and the skilled hand on his crotch were making him come undone at the seams. He let out a humiliating groan as Sir squeezed him. 

"One last time," Morty proposed timidly. "O-one last time and then we n-n-never see each other again."

Sir chuckled drily again. “That’s my good boy.”

Morty wished he could drop through the floor and disappear. Because he was supposed to be _Rick’s_ good boy, goddamnit, but Sir had his claws in him deep.

Sir’s hands left him, and he heard him unbuckle his belt. He got up. There was an intense glint in his ice blue eyes that knocked all the air out of Morty. He turned away. 

“Take off your pants, turn around. Hands on the chair, ass out.”

Something tight in Sir’s voice warned Morty that he had better hurry. He flew up out of the chair, kicked off his shoes, and shucked off his pants as quickly as he could--though he did take a moment to fold them and put them under the chair, remembering how he’d been asked to do that back at the club. His skin still felt cool to the touch, but the fire was rapidly warming him as he moved into position.

He breathed in, and out. In, out. In, out. His heartbeat fluttered.

When Sir’s belt came down on the backs of his thighs, Morty cried out helplessly. That had been much, much harder than Sir had ever hit him before. His knees nearly buckled, but he held himself up as best he could.

“R-Red,” he whimpered immediately. He never wanted to feel that again.

But the belt came down again, straight across Morty’s ass with such force that it knocked the breath out of him. As he crumpled to his knees he got three more lashes across his narrow hips.

“This is what you get for letting another man touch what is mine!” Sir gritted out, punctuating his words with more blows. Morty covered his face with his arms and wept, and Sir just let out a low laugh. “Cry all you want, babe; it only makes me harder.”

Morty couldn’t breathe. He was in so much pain, but the terror was worse. He had no idea what was going to happen to him next when he heard the belt clatter to the floor. He kept his legs pressed together as tight as he could. He heard Sir spit, and he had never thought a single sound could send ice water through his veins like that. He squeezed his thighs shut even tighter and waited. When nothing happened, he held his breath, listening out for any clues, too afraid to look up. Sir’s breathing had grown ragged, and Morty could just barely hear the sound of skin striking skin over the murmuring of the fire. He stayed as still as he could, as if that would keep him from being noticed as Sir worked himself. The thumping of his heart was almost enough to cover Sir’s quiet moans.

Tears slid down Morty’s cheeks when he felt the slight pressure and heat of Sir’s semen splattering the shoulder of his good sweater. The one he’d put on with such pride at the beginning of the night. Now it was ruined in every way possible. Morty knew he would ball it up in the back of his closet and never take it out again. He cried for himself into the dark space he’d created under his arms, still afraid that Sir would pull out some new punishment for him.

Instead, he heard rapid footsteps walking away from him across the hardwood floor. “Put your clothes on and get the fuck out of here,” Sir said, and left the room.

Morty cried. The fire had died down, and that was the only clue he had to how much time had passed by the time he hastily pulled on his pants. He peeked around the doorway into the hallway and didn’t see anyone, so he made a dash for the foyer. His thighs and ass ached and burned. He hated it, hated the pain in and of itself and hated the fact that he’d be sore for days with this reminder of this horrible night. Trying not to think about it, he put on his coat and hastened out the door into the frigid night.

There was no way he was going to be able to ride his bike. He gave up on the idea immediately. But he had just blown all his money on Magic: The Gathering cards so that he could play with Adrian and couldn’t afford an Uber now, either. So he shoved his hands into his pockets and started walking.

Forty minutes later he’d had enough. His mind had whirled and spun the entire walk, but he had finally come to a decision. He had to call Rick. He wasn’t going to make it home like this, and even though guilt was eating him alive he didn’t want to see anyone else right now. He had trouble dialing his phone with his frozen fingers.

The phone rang five times before Rick picked up. “Morty?” He was audibly surprised. “What the fuck, why are you--you ok?”

It wasn’t until Rick asked that Morty realized he’d started crying again. He sniffled and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Rick, I need you to come p-p-p-pick me up. I’m walking home, and I d-don’t think I’m gonna m-m-m-make it.”

There was a long pause. “Where are you?”

“I’m n-n-near Target on Midvale.”

“Go in the parking lot and stay under the lights.” Morty heard the jingling of keys on the line. “For fuck’s sake, walking home in the middle of the damn night,” Rick grumbled.

Morty let out a wet laugh. He felt delirious. “You’re worried about me.”

“Morty, _of course_ I’m worried about you. You can’t just walk around by yourself in the dark.”

“Just h-h-h-hurry, please. I’m so cold.”

“Be there in 10,” Rick said. Morty heard the creak of the car door and the purr of the engine rumbling to life.

Almost precisely 10 minutes later Rick pulled up in front of the Target. Morty hurried into the passenger’s seat. He exhaled in relief at the pocket of warm air that he slid into. Rick wasn’t looking at him, but he didn’t want to look Rick in the face, either, so he just leaned forward and put his forehead against the dash. 

“Rick? Can I...can I come over to your house?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Rick said, sounding hesitant. “But I can come over to yours.”

“You’d rather sleep over in a d-d-dorm room than show me where you live?”

Morty let out another crazy laugh. He flinched when Rick laid his hand on his shoulder, so he retracted it again. Morty heard Rick take out his flask, and the car began to move. He found himself immediately carsick, so he shifted and pressed his forehead to the cool glass window instead of the warm dashboard.

“Yeah. I guess I would,” Rick said.

“I don’t want to g-go home. I don’t want to see Adrian.”

“Ok.”

They drove for a while in silence and when the car came to a stop andMorty looked up they were parked in front of a hotel. Wordlessly Rick climbed out and Morty followed suit. He scrambled to keep up with Rick’s long legged stride. They went into the front office. Rick, looking bored, leaned against the counter and rang the bell. A pretty woman with curly hair came out from the back office. ‘Sofia,’ her nametag read.

“We need a room,” Rick snapped.

Sofia’s expression didn’t even flinch. “Absolutely. A room with two full sized beds for you and your grandson will be--”

“My _boyfriend_ and I only need one bed.”

This one caused a little flicker in her smile. Morty looked down at the floor. He knew how young he looked; he hoped she wasn’t about to call the cops on Rick. “Of course, my mistake,” she said. “I’ll need your credit card, and your total will be eighty-seven dollars.” Rick grunted and handed the card over, and received two keycards in return. “Your room is 410. If you need anything I’ll be here all night.”

“C’mon, Morty,” Rick said, leaving the office with his hands shoved in his lab coat’s pockets.

During the elevator ride and the short walk to their room, Morty’s guts were twisting. He had no idea what to tell Rick, but he knew he had to tell him _something_. He was sure his eyes were red from crying, he had jizz on his sweater, and he was sure his entire backside was one huge purple bruise. He wasn’t sure whether he felt more traumatized or more guilty. By the time Rick let him into the room and followed. It was dark, and even once Rick flipped the light on it remained very dim. Morty stalled out, staring at the fluffy white bed and wringing his hands together in front of him.

“You want to tell me what’s wrong now?” asked Rick.

Morty shook his head no.

“Come on, Morty. I was in bed already. You look fucking terrible, you were walking around town in the dark, and you don’t want to go back to your place. You’ve gotta give me something, baby.”

Morty’s eyes stung at the pet name, but he didn’t seem to have any tears left. He looked down at his hands. They were shaking.

“Did something...happen to you?”

He nodded.

“Something bad happened to you,” Rick repeated.

Morty nodded again.

Rick’s voice was tight when he spoke again. “Tell me what happened, Morty.”

“I cheated on you,” he blubbered, surprising himself. That wasn’t what he’d meant to say at all.

“You _what_?”

“Or...I didn’t cheat on you, but I _started_ to and then...and…” Morty couldn’t catch his breath. He was gasping for air and trying to force his words out at the same time.

Suddenly Rick’s strong hands were on his shoulders, and Morty looked up into his cold blue eyes. He balled his fist in Rick’s lapels and sagged miserably.

“Jesus, Morty, calm down.” There was something guarded in his expression, and a slight flush across his cheeks. “Just tell me what the fuck happened.”

“I’d been seeing this other guy. S-Sir. At a club. Tonight I went to his house. To b-b-b-b-break up with him, ‘cause you and I--”

“Sir? You don’t even know this guy’s name? And you _went to his house_?”

“Yes! I know it was s-stupid, ok? It was really, r-r-really stupid. But I went and...I said this was gonna be the _last time_ but I sh-sh-should have just s-said n-n-n-no…”

“Yeah. You should have.” Rick was frowning. He was clearly holding something back. Probably his righteous fury, Morty thought miserably.

“I’m so sorry.” Morty started to bury his face in his hands, but Rick grasped his wrists and pulled them away.

“I want you to look at me while you tell me this,” Rick said, his voice low.

“I’m sorry,” Morty wailed. “But he...he didn’t even…” Morty sniffled. “He b-beat me with a belt. Like, _hard_ , even though I s-s-said _no_ , and then…I thought he was gonna...” He broke down, heaving with sobs. “He jerked off on m-me and told me to g-g-get out. I walked for almost an hour and then I c-called you.”

“Fuck,” Rick breathed.

“I had to tell you, I couldn’t l-l-l-lie to you. I’m so sorry.”

“That guy is a bastard. He doesn’t deserve someone like you, Morty. Good fucking riddance.”

Morty knit his eyebrows. _Good riddance_? “But--”

Rick sighed, his shoulders slumping. He gently peeled Morty’s sweater off, and then his hands went to Morty’s fly. Morty put his hand on Rick’s wrist, stopping him. His anxieties must have been showing in his eyes, because Rick shook his head.

“Nothing like that. I’m gonna tuck you in.”

Morty chewed on his lip. He had imagined this going much differently. “I thought you w-were a jealous guy.”

“I am,” Rick said darkly. “You should see yourself, though. You’ve been punished enough.”

Rick easily knocked Morty’s hands away and proceeded to divest him of his jeans, shoes, and socks. He put a firm hand on his shoulder and turned him around. His spidery fingers traced over a welt on Morty’s back, and the boy hissed in pain.

“Shit, baby. This is...this is really bad.”

Gentle hands guided Morty towards the bed, peeled back the puffy blankets and pushed Morty between them. Suddenly afraid, Morty grabbed Rick by his lab coat.

“Don’t go,” he begged. “Please. Please, I know I m-messed up, but don’t go.”

“I wasn’t going to, geez.” Rick looked pleased to be asked, though. He nudged Morty over and laid down facing him, staying on top of the blanket. His calloused fingers ran up and down Morty’s arm. “I’m gonna kiss you now, ok?”

Something unknotted itself in Morty’s chest and he breathed in deeply for what felt like the first time since escaping Sir’s house. Being asked for permission soothed something inside of him. A painful smile spread across his face.

“Yeah. That sounds great, Rick.”

Rick smiled back. He brushed a curl off of Morty’s forehead and pulled him in for a soft, loving kiss.

Maybe things were going to be ok, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: sexual assault.


	8. Chapter 8

Five days later Morty saw Rick’s apartment for the first time. It was nicer than he had originally let on; a three bedroom place a few miles south of campus. Not the best neighborhood, but not the worst, either. Most of his belongings were still boxed up--either he had just moved in or he was just the kind of guy who was ok living out of boxes. Morty would be willing to believe either. One of the bedrooms was off limits, enforced by a padlock that Rick had installed himself, probably against his landlord’s wishes.

There seemed to be two possessions that Rick took pride in--his enormous television, complete with strange cable box (decorated, for some reason, with a large pink crystal), and his lavish king-sized bed that took up most of one of the two remaining bedrooms.

The room already smelled like sex, but Rick was insatiable. He was moving inside of Morty slowly and tenderly. Morty was already blissed out--he had come twice within the past hour, and he couldn’t have stood anything more vigorous than this gentle lovemaking. His body was sensitive; his arousal was almost painful. But Rick seemed to know just how to touch him to have pleasure mounting in his body. It felt thick and warm in the pit of his stomach. Rick's strokes were long and laboriously languid; he took his time, kissing Morty's neck, murmuring praise against his skin, his hand working Morty's cock exactly the way he liked it.

"My sweet boy," Rick breathed. His teeth gently scraped against Morty's throat. "Fuck. You feel so good."

" _Rick_ ," Morty whined, "I can't. I can't."

"You can. I'm gonna make you feel so good, baby. Just let me…"

Morty cried out as Rick began to thrust harder. He could feel every inch of him sliding out and slamming back in. His nails dug into Rick's back. His trembling thighs clamped tighter around his lover's waist. He was so sensitive, strung tighter than a piano wire. Despite himself, he began to sob-- dry at first, but soon with streaming tears. Rick gripped his hips tightly and held him still while he took his pleasure. Morte could feel the tension in Rick's thighs. 

"I'm so close," he gritted out. "Almost...almost…"

He lifted Morty's hips with his strong hands, changing the angle of his thrusts. Morty sobbed and writhed, but Rick held him fast and quickened his pace. He bit down on Morty's collarbone to muffle his moans, murmuring to himself between bites. _Almost baby;yesyesyes_ …

When Rick came it was with a deep, satisfied groan. Morty felt his body flood with heat. When Rick pulled out Morty threw his arm over his eyes and whimpered. He wasn't sure that he could come again, but he was disappointed that Rick hadn't even tried. So far the older man had proven himself a generous lover. So why didn't--

Morty yelped as Rick yanked him by his legs, hooking his knees over his shoulders. His eyes widened as he realized what Rick was about to do.

"N-no," he stammered. He tried to close his thighs, but in his position he couldn't without suffocating Rick. "You d-d-d-d-don’t have to do that!"

Rick had insisted that they both get tested immediately, and when both boasted a clean bill of health he also insisted that they do away with condoms. Morty was mortified, therefore, when Rick eagerly began to lap his own come from Morty's hole. 

Rick's tongue was warm and _skilled_ , and in a matter of moments Morty was moaning wantonly and angling his hips to open himself further. Rick licked and teased, dragged his tongue across Morty’s fluttering, gaping hole and thrusting it inside by turns. When he gave Morty a reacharound the boy nearly lost his mind. Somehow this was filthy and so very intimate at the same time, and it had Morty's head spinning. And it was _just right_ ; preying on his sensitivity while not overwhelming him in the same way that being fucked had. He laid his head back and stared unseeing at the unfamiliar ceiling. 

"Yes, Rick, Oh god, please _please_ ," he babbled. 

Rick's name was all he could think, and he called it out again and again as talented hands pushed him closer and closer. Then he was plunging over the brink, sobbing and shivering as he came all over his own chest and stomach. Rick gave a few parting laps at his twitching hole before laying him down gently on the bed. Morty struggled to catch his breath, only vaguely aware of Rick licking the come off of his body, kissing hot brands all the way up until he was shoving his tongue in Morty's mouth. The kiss tasted like the bitter sweetness of both of their emissions. For half a second Morty was disgusted, but how could he complain after the pleasure Rick had just put him through? So Morty kissed back, looping his arms around Rick’s neck loosely. He felt boneless, light as a balloon and so, so very tired. He heaved a sigh of contentment when Rick laid his head down on his shoulder. Morty ran his fingers up and down Rick's sweaty back until his skin cooled and he began to shiver. Smiling like a sunbeam, Morty folded the blanket over the two of them.

He thought Rick had fallen asleep while he combed his fingers through his fine hair, but the older man stirred, pushing himself up on his elbows to look Morty in the eye.

"Baby, we've _got_ to get out of the house. You can't keep calling me just to hide away."

"Aw, geez," said Morty, suddenly uncomfortable. "I'm not really a 'get out of the house' k-kind of guy, Rick."

"You were until last week."

"Yeah, and look how that turned out." Morty looked away from Rick, wishing he could melt into the mattress and hide.

"That's exactly why you need to get out again. You'll see. Everything will go just fine. I'll go with you."

"Where w-w-would I even go? I mean, we could try that arcade again…"

"Tell you what. I'll hide away with you for the rest of the week and then we'll go to that party your little roommate invited you to."

"No. No way. A big party like that? I've never--"

"If you're gonna be with me, Morty, you're gonna have to learn to party eventually. Now's the perfect time. Get you over this mopey shit."

"I'm not mopey," Morty complained. 

"Morty. Yes you fucking are. Don't argue with your elders."

"Ok, that's completely not fair, Rick! I thought you didn't want me to treat you different 'cause of, y-you know, your age." In fact, bringing it up made Morty feel weird. He didn't like to think about how Rick was probably old enough to be his grandfather. His classmates were going to think he was such a freak when they showed up together at the party.

When. Well, it looked like he'd made up his mind. He sighed again, much less content this time.

"Fine. But if I hate it then we leave."

"You have to give it at least 90 minutes first. Deal?"

What was he getting himself into? "Deal."

***

The bassline of the thumping music vibrated Morty’s guts uncomfortably. He didn’t want to be here, but a promise was a promise. The house was packed. Students lingered on the stairs, leaning on the rickety bannister. They leaked out onto the back patio and straggled in the narrow yard. The kitchen in particular was packed, a gaggle of girls pressed together, surrounded by a string of boys who reeked of desperation and all herded together by several of the hosts, who were jealously guarding the liquor and charging donations for access to the keg. The mixed crowd in the living room were swaying mildly to the noise.

Immediately upon arriving Rick had bulldozed over clumps of college students and stolen a full bottle of blackberry flavored vodka. He led Morty back to the living room and ousted a couple from the enormous beanbag chair they had been occupying. He pulled Morty down into his lap and made a noise of contentment next to his ear. 

"We'll take it slow," he promised. But contrary to his words he shoved the bottle into Morty's hands.

"Rick," Morty complained, "I d-d-d-d-don't want to drink!"

"I thought we were going to party."

"I never said I would drink, though!" 

"Quit being a pussy. I--"

"Look who showed," came a cheerful voice. "I had five bucks on you coming tonight. Thanks for winning the bet for me!"

Adrian stood over the two of them, one arm around his girlfriend, Rebecca, and the other hand holding a stereotypical red solo cup. Rebecca looked about as shy as Morty felt, twisting a brunette curl around her finger.

"Oh, he's gonna come tonight," Rick smirked.

"Rick!" Morty squealed, as Rick and Adrian both cracked up. "Y-y-y-y-y-you can't say things like that in front of people!"

Rick bent over Morty to murmur in his ear, low and gravelly and barely there-- little more than a rumble beneath the pounding music. "You want me to say it to you instead, baby? You wanna hear about how hard I'm gonna make you come tonight? I'll make you forget your own name."

Morty was thankful for the dimmed lighting, because he could feel himself flushing to the tips of his ears. Rick was running his hands up and down Morty's sides, and he placed a searing kiss to Morty's neck. Adrian whistled. 

"Damn, you two!"

" _You two_?! I didn't do anything!" Morty spluttered.

Rick just laughed. He leaned back in the beanbag and folded his hands behind his head. The shift in his weight threw Morty off balance, and he fell back against Rick's chest. Rick seemed content to sit and look around the room, but Morty almost instantly began to feel awkward. He didn't want to take control of the conversation, but he didn't want it to be quiet between the four of them, either.

"I l-like your dress," he ventured, trying to include Rebecca. "It's a real good color on you."

"Gay," Rick said. He honest-to-god snorted.

Adrian snickered along.

"That wasn't very nice," Rebecca said. Her voice was quiet and shy, but Morty appreciated the effort.

"Traitor," Morty accused Adrian. 

"Oh _come on_. I don't go in for slurs, but when the dude who's sticking it in your butt says you're being gay, you're being _pretty gay_."

"Who--wha--I didn't--"

Rick cracked up. "What, did you think anyone would believe that _you_ top _me_?"

"Nobody but us should be thinking about who sticks what where, Rick!" 

It was official. He was dying of embarrassment. Morty snatched up the bottle of vodka, practically ripped off the cap, and brought it to his lips. He got a strong whiff of bathroom cleaner and sugarless gum, which wasn't at all inviting, but he tipped his head back and tried to take a long pull anyway.

Mistake.

It tasted disgusting, fiery and artificially sweet at the same time. He sputtered, gagging on half of his mouthful and spitting the rest onto his yellow button down shirt. 

"Spitters are quitters," Adrian laughed.

"Oh, my boy swallows," Rick said. 

They were both still teasing him, but Rick gently rubbed his back and Adrian produced a clean napkin from his pocket for Morty to dab at his shirt. 

"Maybe you need to start with a mixed drink, dude. They def have juice in the kitchen. want me to get you some?" asked Adrian.

"We'll go," said Rick. "C'mon, Morty. I need to see if they have anything higher proof than your little baby juice over there."

Reluctantly, Morty struggled out of the beanbag. He helped Rick up after him. 

"Save our fucking spot," Rick said to the couple they were leaving behind. 

He grabbed Morty by the hand and dragged him from the dark wonderland of the living room to the harshly lit kitchen. The small table was host to a raucous game of Cards Against Humanity. Two tiny girls were fiddling with a keg, trying to tap it properly. A stocky boy stood guard over the liquor. He snorted when Rick and Morty approached him.

"Hey, grandpa," the boy said derisively. "You lost? Wander out of the nursing home?"

"Hilarious. One of you idiot kids must have brought everclear, right?"

"Rick, I-I-I don't know if that's a good--"

"Don't talk back to me," Rick snapped. 

"Listen to your grandson, old timer. What are you even doing here? I mean, you're too old to be a cop, so…"

"I'm _here_ to get wrecked. You gonna facilitate, or do I have to teach you some fucking manners?"

"Take a joke, man."

"Rick," Morty pleaded. "Maybe w-w-we should just go. We could go home…"

"No fucking way. This kid is too big for his britches and it's pissing me off." Rick gave the student a level glare.

"Dude, I think your grandpa must already be drunk," the boy addressed Morty.

"He is," Morty answered. His shoulders felt so heavy. "And he's not my g-grandpa, he's my boyfriend."

"Yeah, laugh it up," Rick growled as the boy cracked up. "At least I'm getting my dick wet tonight, unlike your fat, pimply ass."

"Rick!" The humiliation just kept coming. "I'm _so sorry_. We'll just go now."

The boy's jaw was set tight and he looked about ready to jump over the counter at Rick when a tall, androgynous student stepped into the middle of the kitchen and held up their arms.

"Yo! We're about to smoke it up in the backyard. Anyone want to come? "

Morty was about to go back to apologising, but the bartending boy's expression smoothed out immediately.

"We all got off on the wrong foot here. Why don't you let them smoke you up and I'll have drinks for you when you get back in. Everclear-- I got you, gramps." 

Rick frowned, looking back and forth between the bartender and the keeper of the weed. Students passed through the kitchen in both directions, and the stoner was beginning to be swept out onto the patio. Rick snatched up Morty's wrist and gave no quarter as he tugged him along to the back yard. It was colder than brisk outside, and despite his displeasure at his current predicament, Morty tucked himself under Rick's arm for warmth. The air seemed clearer than usual, the stars stark pinpricks in the blanket of the heavens.

"What a-a-a-a-a-are we doing, Rick?" Morty whined. "I don't wanna do drugs! This whole party thing sucks, Rick; I wanna g-go home."

"Rule one of the universe, Morty: never, I repeat never turn down free drugs. Even if it's just some skunk weed at a college party."

"What's 'skunk weed?'" Morty wrinkled his nose. It sounded unappealing on every level.

"It's shit-tier product that college kids can afford."

"If it's s-s-so b-bad then maybe we should just skip it," Morty wheedled.

"Nice try, fuckface. You're getting high tonight."

The student who had invited them out was standing in a clump with four others. Rick shouldered in, dragging Morty along with him. 

"Alright! OG stoner, ready to party!" they enthused when they saw Rick. Their smile was all teeth, and seemed touchingly genuine. "I'm Dani."

"Rick."

" _Rick_ ," Dani slurred, "I grant you greens on this delicious sativa."

"Care if I pass that along to my boyfriend here?" 

Morty had counted himself forgotten, tucked away under Rick's lab coat. Dani put their hands to their lips, looking at Morty as if he were a puppy. 

"Aww, a May-December romance! That's cute as shit! Yeah, dude. Greens are yours; do what you wish with them." 

A large glass pipe was produced and passed to Rick. He brought the bowl to his nose and took an assessing sniff, then prodded the contents with his little finger. "It's sticky," he said in clear surprise.

"I don't fuck around with inferior product. I grow my own shit," Dani said, practically preening.

"Ok, Morty. Try not to fuck this up and waste Dani's good weed," Rick warned sternly. He produced a blue lighter from one of his lab coat pockets and thrust the pipe into Morty's hands. "Put the stem to your lips--no, Jesus, you don't have to deepthroat the thing! That's better." Morty tried to ignore the titter that had gone up among the other stoners. "Put your thumb over the shotgun. No, it's-- it's that little hole. Ok, good. When I put the fire to the bowl start breathing in. Then I'll tell you to let go of the shotgun and you suck down as much smoke as you can. But _this is important, Morty_ : if you're gonna cough-- and trust me, you're gonna cough-- _don't cough into the mouthpiece_. You'll blow all the weed out of the bowl."

"Where were you _my_ first time?" Dani said. They tittered good naturedly again. "This guy's gonna take good care of you, Morty."

Morty felt his face warm, but it had already thankfully been pinkened from the cold. Plus the light from the patio barely illuminated their corner of the back yard. Two of the girls in the circle had their heads together, talking in low voices. Dani grabbed a hula hoop off the ground. They started to do tricks, passing it from one wrist up their arm and over their head down to the other wrist. Morty gawped until Rick smacked him on the back of his head.

"Pay the fuck attention, _Morty_." 

The lighter flicked to life. Morty enjoyed the heat of the flame so much that he almost forgot to start sucking on the stem. He obediently lifted his thumb when Rick told him to. Big, big mistake. The column of smoke he inhaled was like a punch in the throat. A ticklish punch in the throat. He just barely had time to take the piece from his lips before he doubled up, coughing fruitlessly through a scalded throat.

"Alright, Morty!" Dani cheered. "You really went for it!"

Morty wanted to thank them, but he was too busy coughing himself stupid.

"Opens your lungs up for your next hit," Rick encouraged. 

" _Next hit_?!? N-n-n-no way; no 'next hit,' Rick! That sucked."

Rick took his own hit casually and handed the bowl off. He held his breath for a few moments before blowing out smoke and turning to Morty. "And if you don't get high then that little fit was all for nothing." Rick gathered Morty close to him and leaned down to give him a kiss that had Morty squirming and breathless. "C'mon, baby. You gotta cut loose."

It took until the bowl came back around for Morty to decide. "Fine," he snapped and snatched up the bowl. "But you're got to-- you can't let me get too high."

"Two more hits, if you can hold them in," Rick promised. 

Morty, knowing what to expect now, did a much better job of regulating his breathing,and he held this hit in for a few seconds before the coughs started. The next go around was even better. After that Morty lost track of the passage of time as he watched Dani manipulate the hula hoop in new and surprising ways. They never dropped it, even when they were taking a hit. It was the most mesmerizing thing Morty had ever seen. So captivating, in fact, that all of the circle's conversations went right in one of Morty's ears and out the other as he stared rapt. 

"Come on, Morty, we gotta go back inside," Rick said, giving Morty a small tug on the arm. "You're gonna freeze." 

"I wanna do that," Morty said back, pointing at Dani and their amazing hula hoop.

"As hilarious as it would be to watch you completely bomb, I'm fucking cold. We're going inside."

"I'm not c-cold," Morty argued. 

"Bullshit. You're shivering."

"Oh." So he was.

"I'll teach you at the next one," Dani promised, and that was good enough for Morty.

He felt happy. He felt like the first trickle of a stream, looking to frolic down the path of least resistance. So he let himself be shooed back into the sunny yellow kitchen.

"It's way, way too loud in here," he informed Rick cheerfully.

Rick grinned back at him. Morty couldn't quite read his expression, but that didn't matter to him much. 

"Oh my god, how are you such a lightweight?" Rick laughed. 

"Probably because I'm light. In--in weight." Morty was proud of his joke, and took Rick's laughter as a sincere endorsement of his comedy genius.

Rick took a moment to breathe on Morty's hands, making him realize how cold he'd actually been. Shivering he pressed into Rick and mewled against Rick's neck.

"Yeah, babe, I know you're cold. Just hold on a minute, will you? Christ."

Morty was dragged back over to the drinks counter. The same boy was there standing guard. 

"Hi!" greeted Morty, magnanimously willing to let bygones be bygones.

"Hey," the boy returned. To Morty he looked happy to see them. He produced two red cups in his thick hands. "Everclear and Koolaid."

Using his height to his advantage, Rick snapped up both drinks and poured one down his own gullet immediately. "No way are you drinking everclear," Rick returned to Morty's small disappointed sound. "Just give us some more juice," he said to the barkeep kid.

Something must have been funny, because the boy was trying to hold back a grin, but Morty didn't get the joke. In short order a cup of juice was pressed into his hands. He felt like he was going to drop it. The journey back into the living room seemed like an arduous quest to keep the juice inside the cup. He sloshed a bit over his hand when Rick stopped abruptly in front of him. 

"That's my seat," Rick said from a million miles away. He was frowning down at Adrian and Rebecca, who were cuddling on the beanbag chair. "Get the fuck up."

Morty made a point of looking around, now that they were back in the dark, pulsing living room. Everyone around him looked as happy as he felt. He felt himself drifting towards a girl on the couch getting her outrageously long hair braided, but Rick reached out and reeled him in by the sleeve, so instead he stayed put and set to licking the juice off of his own wrist.

"No way, my dude," said Adrian. "You were gone forever. You lost dibs."

"Babe, maybe we should…" Rebecca glanced nervously up at Rick. "I mean, aren't you supposed to give up your seat for…"

"If you're about to say 'senior citizens' I'm gonna kick your ass," Rick growled. 

Adrian just laughed. "I have to hear about all the acrobatics the two of them get up to. He's not some frail old dude, babe. No deal, Rick. You snooze, you lose." 

"Fucking little shit." Rick drank about half of his everclear mixture in one go. "I've jizzed on your sheets."

"Awww, gross! Jesus, Morty, why would you do that?" 

Morty, who had been sipping his juice very, very slowly, looked up and shrugged. "He wanted to." It was the only explanation he had, so it was the only one he offered. Simple enough.

"I'm jacking off on your pillow next time you're out of the room."

"Sounds fair. Or maybe you should just have sex on my bed. Doesn't that sound nicer? If you think about it that's the more equivalent trade."

"Dude, how drunk _are_ you?"

"Not at all. I…" Morty looked over his shoulder and then leaned down closer to Adrian. "I-I smoked pot."

"Holy shit, bro! Way to go! You're doing your first party right. Here, man, have some vodka--get twisted."

Adrian twisted to grab the stoli Morty had tried to drink earlier and Morty went back to being careful about his juice when Rebecca spoke up, her voice pitched high and a bit frantic.

"Um, guys, I think something's wrong with Rick."

Rick was swaying on his feet, his head and arms drooping. Adrian snatched Morty's drink away as Morty twisted toward Rick. He managed to reach out and catch him just as he staggered forward, nearly pitching onto his face. His cup dropped to the floor, splashing what little remained of his drink onto Rebecca's dress and denim jacket. 

"What the fuck!" She leapt up and away.

Adrian jumped to his feet as well, and Morty lowered Rick into the seat they had just vacated. For a few moments Morty forgot his friends. Rick's head was lolling back and forth loosely, and he began to laugh softly.

"Morty. I'm in the chair," he giggled.

"Dude, if this was some kind of BS to get the beanbag, I swear to god…" said Adrian.

"I don't think it is; he really doesn't look so good," said Rebecca. "Did he drink anything? Or just smoke like you?" 

"He, uh...he's kind of an alcoholic." Even through his haze and his worry, Morty was embarrassed to admit that. "He was probably d-d-drinking all day."

"No, I meant here. Did you guys put down your drinks while you were smoking or something?"

"We didn't have them yet," said Morty. 

"That guy made them for us," Rick said, pointing to the student who had made their drinks, who was hanging out in the doorway smirking.

"Fuck. I swear to god, boys are so stupid." 

"Hey. 'M th' smartest man in the...the universe," Rick objected. 

"You just got roofied. So...maybe not."

"Roofied? Oh geez, oh god, oh _fuck_ ," Morty said, pacing back and forth and tugging on his hair.

"Go grab him," Rebecca said urgently to Adrian. "Try to find out what he gave him."

"Right." Adrian brushed past Morty, rushing into action. 

"Roofied?" Rick looked at Morty, who had crouched down in front of him. "Can't be. Haven't been roofied since th-the 80's. Hitchhiking in the Perseid Expanse." 

Morty didn't know where that was. His poor little blown mind chose that to focus on. The problem in front of him felt so scary and so very, very big. This was all his fault. He gripped onto Rick's lab coat and looked into his dilated eyes. They were so glassy and vacant. He was peering out at the world and seeing nothing. He wouldn't even focus on Morty's face. Or couldn't.

"Is that in Colorado?" Morty asked, hysterical.

"Good," said Rebecca, "keep him talking. I'm gonna go get him some water."

Morty barely noticed her. He had found a little splash of red juice on Rick's white lapel. He was going to be so mad about it.

"No, Morty. 'S not in _Colorado_." Somehow Rick managed to _slur_ derisively. "It's up--up there," he went on, gesturing expansively toward the ceiling. 

"Uh...upstairs?" Rick was making no sense, and Morty was worried. He took his face between his hands, willing his eyes to focus. 

They did. A bit. Rick smiled sloppily and reached out, laying a heavy hand on Morty's cheek. In the background the song changed to a soft, delicate tune that did nothing to cover the angry shouting now coming from the kitchen.

"Morty," Rick said. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and resumed his smile. "I love you, Morty."

Morty's heart felt like it would give out. Could weed do that to you? He tried to think back to his DARE lessons, but his mind was just blank. It was like this was the only moment he ever had lived in, ever _would_ live in.

"I love you, too, Rick." He leaned his forehead against Rick's chest. That helped a little. The rise and fall of Rick's breathing felt so emphatically alive. 

"But y'know, I'm so sorry, Morty. I'm so sorry I hurt you."

"Rick, you haven't ever hurt me, ok? You don't have to be worried." God, what if Rick _died_ thinking that he had done something to upset Morty. 

Sober Morty would have called an ambulance. High Morty just wiped a tear from the corner of Rick's eye. Rick knocked his hand away and finished the job himself. 

"I _beat you_ ," Rick sobbed. "I never meant to. I never meant to, Morty. I swear. I just got so mad when you were gonna cheat on me." Rick clasped Morty's hands to his chest. "But I shouldn't have done that."

"Rick, I have no idea what y-you're talking about. Did you...did you do that to someone else?" The thought that Rick had put someone through what he had gone through himself made him feel a little sick.

"Probably," Rick slurred mournfully, "but I'm talking about _you_." Tears kept slipping down

"You didn't do that to me. Sir did." Morty kept his voice low, afraid that everyone in the room was listening to them.

"No, no. It was me. It was just me the whole time, Morty."

"I don't u-u-understand what you're saying. You picked me up that night, remember? You aren't the one who hit me." 

Rick made a frustrated noise and reached into one of his inner pockets. He produced his phone in clumsy hands and immediately fumbled it. It skittered across the wooden floor. Morty went chasing after it, grabbing it up just in time to stop a lanky, drunken student from stepping on it. There was a bit of spiderwebbing in one corner, but Morty wasn't sure whether or not that was new.

"Give it here," Rick insisted when Morty came back with it.

Morty hesitated. He had a powerful sense of foreboding, like he really didn't want to see whatever Rick had on his phone. Like everything was about to change. But what could he do? He just sat on the ground, waiting as Rick painstakingly unlocked his phone and thumbed through screens. 

When Morty saw the photograph the bottom dropped out of his stomach.

There he was, in living color, trussed up in criss-crossed ropes in the little room at the BDSM club. 

"It was me," Rick repeated. His face was open, miserable, hopeless.

"It...was you?" Morty looked from Rick's face to the photo and back. "No. No way. This i-i-i-isn't real. This can't be real. I would have recognized you!"

"Quantum ocular destabilization field projector in the mask," Rick sniffled.

"What?" 

"'S basically a magic mask, Morty. Put that baby on and not even your own mother would recognize you." 

"This is crazy, Rick! You're talking crazy. There's no such thing as magic, Rick!" 

"I agree. It's science, Morty. I'm a-- I'm a scientist. On an interplanetary scale." He seemed to be collecting himself a little, though he didn’t look any more sober. The tears had stopped, leaving him with terrifying red, vacant eyes.

Morty opened his mouth to answer when Adrian and Rebecca returned, interrupting him. He saw Rick's up beginning to quaver again. 

"It's ketamine," Rebecca said. "He tried to dose both of you, so Rick basically got a double. Maybe we should take him to the hospital."

"No," Rick said firmly. "No hospitals, no cops."

"You sound like a fucking movie. You really want to OD on Morty's watch, dude?" demanded Adrian.

"Ketamine. 'S fine. No big deal. Not my first choice, but…"

"Jesus. Who _is_ this guy, Morty?" asked Rebecca, putting her arms around herself.

"I think I might not know." Morty felt dead inside. He thrust Rick's phone back at his chest and watched impassively as Rick struggled to get it back into his inner pocket. "Give me your keys," he demanded, and Rick hurried to meekly comply. 

"I don't think you should be driving right now," Adrian said, trying and failing to intercept the keys.

"I'm suddenly feeling really sober." 

In reality Morty was feeling just as dazed as Rick looked. He just didn't care. He helped Rick out of his seat and exchanged promises with Rebecca and Adrian to check in before bed.

The cold woke Morty up a bit, enough to get them back to Rick's apartment with only one close call when he started to get lost in his thoughts and had to swerve at the last second to miss a cat in the road on Park street. They pulled into the narrow lot In front of Rick's apartment and for a while they sat in the silence, broken only by Rick's sniveling.

Getting Rick into his apartment was harder than getting him into his car had been. Morty had to hold Rick up completely as he struggled with the stubborn security door. At least Rick's apartment was on the first floor. Morty dragged Rick inside and managed to flop him onto his ratty couch. He stood panting in the pool of lamplight that ringed them in. Rick's head was tilted back, propped against the back of the couch. There was a pleading look in his eyes. Morty crossed his arms, struggling to keep his nausea in check. 

"You're angry," Rick said pathetically.

"N-n-no shit, Rick. Yeah, I'm fucking angry. You've been _lying_ to me! You _fucking assaulted me_ , Rick! I should call the cops on you."

"You wouldn't." Rick waited. A shadow shifted--headlights in the parking lot. "I love you, Morty. You love me, too, I know you do. I know you better than anyone." 

"Don't you think that's a--a little presumptuous?"

"Ooh, big word, Morty."

"Is this really the time you want to be a huge asshole?"

"No." Rick covered his face with his hands. He was crying again, weeping openly. "I should never have done it. I shouldn't have done it."

"Yeah. But you did. Now you have to live with the consequences."

"Consequences?" Rick looked out from between his fingers, appearing for all the world like a small, lost boy.

"Did you really think that I'd want to stay with you once I knew what you'd done?" Morty was aghast at the sheer hubris. 

"I fucked up. I fucked up. You used to love me and I threw it away."

"Yeah, Rick," Morty said wearily. "You did. I never want to see you again."

Rick crumpled in on himself, holding his stomach as he slumped over on the couch. He started to waiI. Morty was embarrassed for him, but he wasn't quite ready to leave. He told himself he just wanted to make sure Rick wasn't dead before he fell asleep. But it wasn't detached concern that drew him toward the couch. He should have been disgusted by the very sight of Rick, but he sat down by him and ran his fingers through his hair until his breath evened out. He arranged him on his side in the recovery position and put a throw blanket over him. Morty's heart felt swollen and heavy. He was so stupid--not only because he hadn't seen through Rick's ruse. Oh, no. He was the dumbest boy on Earth because he _still loved Rick_. He wanted to shake him awake and tell him he could have another chance. He almost _did_ ; stopping himself only when he had nudged Rick once and gotten no response. No, no, no. He had to stick to his guns. Rick couldn't just get away with what he had done. 

Morty was out of the apartment when he remembered that he still had Rick's keys in his pocket. He turned back, pondering if he wanted to call his cab from inside, too. It was cold outside. On his way to the living room to drop the keys off when the padlocked bedroom at the end of the hall caught his eye. 

He shouldn't.

But Morty found himself drawn inexorably toward the locked room. He had to try four keys before he found the one that unlocked the deadbolt. Looking over his shoulder in one last moment of paranoia, he let himself inside.

This must have been the Master bedroom, because it was nearly as big as the other two put together. Beakers of strange liquids glowed in the darkness, along with various screens and buttons. Morty flicked on the light. The room was ringed by one continuous workbench. Morty walked along it pausing here and there to poke at or pick up a beeping robot here, a sleek laser gun there. He was in absolute awe. Rick had been keeping so much from him. But...this couldn't have been what he thought it was. Rick must have been a propmaker or something by profession. Yeah. That had to be it. 

He was about to bail when he ran across a box of red vials clearly labeled 'Morty: Best.' He picked one up, turning it over in his hands a few times. The three prongs on the bottom of the vial seemed like they would line up with the indentations on a helmet laying next to the box. 

It only took a few tense moments to come to a decision. Morty put the helmet on his head and plugged the first vial in.


	9. Chapter 9

Morty picked up a red vial and read the faded label taped to the side. Museum, it said, rather unhelpfully. He shrugged and plugged it into the helmet he was wearing. His eyes rolled back in his head and the room he was in was replaced in his mind's eye with a vision like a very vivid dream, or perhaps a memory.

*~*~*~*

Morty gaped at the almost sacred artifact arrayed in front of him. The command module of the Apollo 11 mission in all its glory. It was incredible, scarred and burnt and claustrophobic inside, a true testament to the terror of human travel in space but also to the determination required to make those manned flights. Beside him, Rick unscrewed his flask and scoffed.

"Buncha bullshit," he opined before taking a noisy slurp of liquor. 

"Aww, c’mon Rick! Don't tell me that you believe the c-c-conspiracy theories." Morty gave Rick a sidelong glance and then turned back toward the command module, frowning. 

He didn't feel like being disillusioned today. It had been hard enough to convince Rick to fly them to DC to go to the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum. Sure, he had seen more of space than any Earth scientist could ever hope to conceive of, but that didn't really put a damper on his childhood dreams to be an honest-to-god astronaut. He knew he would never qualify. He knew Rick could take him anywhere in the universe-- that he was better off than the astronauts. He knew it was a silly fantasy. But it was _his_ silly fantasy. It really rankled, Rick shitting on his daydreams.

"It's not a conspiracy theory if it's _true_ , Morty. It's a conspiracy _fact_. Do you really think man flew to the moon with punchcards? Computers that took up whole rooms with barely a fraction of the processing power of a shitty clamshell phone? I remember 1969, Morty. And let me assure you that a moon landing was impossible back then." 

"Oh yeah? Prove it," Morty said, feeling rather daring. He had to at least _try_ to stand up for his heroes.

Rick frowned at him over the lip of his flask. He took a sip, put it away, and snatched Morty by the wrist. "Ok, wise guy, let's go." 

"Ow! Rick!" Morty whined as he let himself be dragged through the crowded museum.

Rick glowered menacingly at a security guard who was approaching them, one hand on his radio.

"Don't bother, Amber Alert Johnny. He's my grandson." 

Morty smiled weakly and confirmed, and then they were headed down to the National Mall where Rick had haphazardly parked the ship by the foot of the Washington Monument. So embarrassing.

They broke out the space suits before Rick landed them on the surface of the moon. When Morty set his first foot on the fine, silvery soil, he felt a profound sense of awe. This was something different from the rest of their adventures. This was so much more real. He felt connected to the rest of humanity in a way that he never had before. Humans were looking up at him _right now_. It was a dizzying thought.

"Hurry up," Rick slurred. They walked together over a small rise. "I've got a bet to win. Hope you're ready to wash my stanky socks for a--"

"Look!"

The landscape dipped slightly ahead of them. In the center of the shallow bowl stood the incontrovertible proof: the leftover landing gear of the original Lunar Module and, breathtakingly, the American flag planted proudly. Laughing, giddy, Morty hurried down the slope as fast as he could. When he stood beneath the flag and saw that the ground was still churned up with the astronauts' footprints, he could have fainted he was so happy! Rick finally caught up. Not even his deep scowl could dampen Morty's spirits.

"Fake news," Rick said. 

"How can you say that? Everything here is exactly like it is in the pictures."

"Don't try to tell me about 'the pictures.' I watched this shit on TV. I know what it's supposed to look like." 

"Then what's your explanation?"

Rick was quiet for a long moment. Morty didn't mind. The Earth was shining overhead, and it was a sight he never tired of. 

"You're gonna be insufferable now," Rick groused.

"Probably," Morty confirmed, grinning from ear to ear. "Thanks, Rick. This is the best adventure ever." 

"Yeah, well. Happy birthday, Morty."

*~*~*~*

Morty gasped in a huge breath, an electric bolt thrumming through his body. The scene he had just witnessed had felt so _real_. He could still smell the plasticky recycled air from the space suit. A creeping fear came over him. He eyed the crate of vials, which had taken on a menacing air. He didn't like any of the explanations he could come up with for what was going on. But the vials drew him in like the inexorable pull of gravity; he _had_ to solve this mystery.

The next one he grabbed read _McDick's_. He took a long, shaking breath and plugged it in.

*~*~*~*

Morty adjusted his tie again. It felt too tight, restrictive, the knot set right over his adam's apple. Rick frowned at him from across the table, absentmindedly smoothing his hand down his own tie. Morty was jealous, frankly. He hadn't expected Rick to clean up looking like James fucking Bond. He felt so shabby in comparison.

"Stop fussing, Morty. This shit was _your_ idea. Just pick something to eat." Rick reached across the small table and straightened Morty’s tie.

"I don't know what any of this s-s-s-stuff _is_ , Rick! 'Bluefin flarpglap?'" It sounded disgusting. "Couldn't we have gone somewhere on Earth?" 

"And where on Earth, exactly, do you think I should have taken my 16 year old grandson on a date? Hm? Enlighten me."

"No one would have known I was your grandson."

"No, but your whole… _this_ ," said Rick, gesturing at Morty, "doesn't exactly scream 'I'm of age.' You want your grandpa Rick to go to jail, Morty?"

"No," Morty said sullenly.

"You asked for a real date. I am providing a real date. Quit your bitching." 

"Ok." Morty peered down at his menu for a moment before growing fidgety again. "Rick?" 

"Oh my god, Morty, _what_?" 

"Thank you. For this." 

Rick rolled his eyes and groaned, which made Morty smile. 

When their four-armed waiter came back, Rick simply ordered for both of them without consulting Morty first. It should have annoyed him, but he simply found himself blushing shyly. _James Bond_ , he found himself thinking again. 

There was a live band playing some kind of soft alien jazz, and some couples moving together on a broad dance floor under the great glass ceiling that let in the astonishing starlight. Morty had to hand it to Rick, he couldn't have picked a more romantic setting. All Morty had wanted was for Rick to put in a little effort, to act like Morty was special to him for once, and he had sure delivered.

"Rick?" Morty twisted his hands together nervously. "Do you...d-d-d-d-do you maybe wanna dance a little?"

Rick's brow arched. "Getting pretty brazen with the requests over there, huh, Mort?"

"I mean, it's ok if you don't! Guess dancing's p-probably not your thing," said Morty, trailing off into a nervous laugh.

"Trying to say I can't dance, Morty? Ok, get the fuck up. I'm gonna samba your little ass off, Morty. 'Cause there's nothing I can't--"

Gunfire sounded from the back of the dining room. The restaurant was plunged into screaming chaos as diners scrambled over one another on their way to either hide or flee. 

"Rick Sanchez!" came a bellow. 

Morty, by now, had pretty good combat instincts, so he was able to zero in on the speaker through the pandemonium. It was a large, bare chested alien man with huge horns like a bull, holding a machine gun in one enormous hand. 

"Rick Sanchez! Come out and face me, you miserable old piece of shit! I told you if you ever showed your face on my asteroid again I'd kill you like the dog you are!"

"Rick! Why did we have to come here if you knew this guy wanted to k-kill you?" 

"Save the lecture, Morty. How was I supposed to know he was going to _actually be here_ today?"

"Who even _is_ he?" Morty asked, exasperated. Couldn't they have just one nice night?

"Big Bulla. Don of the Jovian mafia. C'mon, Morty, let's go." Rick said, reaching under his jacket to draw his laser pistol.

James Bond.

Twenty minutes and five murders later, Rick and Morty blasted off at full speed, leaving the burning restaurant in their wake. Rick whooped as the engine kicked into high gear. There was a manic light in his eyes when he looked over at Morty. He always got that way after killing. He licked his thumb and wiped a smear of blood off of Morty's cheek. Morty slapped his hand away like an annoying fly.

"What crawled up _your_ butt and died?" Rick groused, taking out his flask. Now his mouth was curved in a disapproving frown.

"Why did you take me there, Rick!? We could have gone anywhere in the multiverse and you picked the one restaurant where the owner is some mob boss who wants you dead?"

"Well, not really the _only_ \--" 

"That doesn't really make it any better, R-Rick! We could have been killed! _Why did you take me there_? I just wanted one nice night, Rick, y'know I don't really think I was asking too much. I would have been happy with going to McDonald's. I just wanted you to show me that you care about me." 

Morty's eyes swam with unshed tears. He turned toward his window and scrubbed angrily at his face with his sleeve. He wouldn't give Rick the satisfaction of seeing him cry. The tension in the ship was so tight that it could have snapped at the least sound, so both of them cocooned themselves in clouds of awkward silence. Even when they began to descend into a massive, unfamiliar city Morty didn’t even ask where they were or why they were going there. He just stared listlessly out the window as Rick dropped them into a spot on the roof level of a parking garage.

“Let’s go,” Rick said gruffly as he climbed unsteadily out of the driver’s seat without a backwards glance at Morty.

Morty didn’t feel like arguing any more, so he just got out of the car and followed Rick. They walked down a busy street, lit up in neon tones by brilliant signs that were in, Morty thought, either Japanese or Chinese. Rick stood head and shoulders above most of native population for the most part, which was the only reason Morty was able to keep track of him as the two of them forced their way through the crowd.

“Rick! Where are we going?” Morty finally asked when Rick stopped in front of him. His feet hurt from his stupid dress shoes and he wasn’t having fun. He just wanted to go home.

“Here,” Rick grunted.

Morty realized that they had stopped right in front of a McDonald’s. Rick ducked inside and Morty hurried to follow him. Morty apologized profusely to the waiting patrons who Rick brushed past on his way to the front of the line. Everyone looked uncomfortable, but the cashier greeted them anyway and Rick struck up a brief conversation in what Morty assumed was the local language. When his order was entered Rick shepherded Morty over to the side to wait for their food.

“Geez, R-Rick. You didn’t ha-have to skip in front of e-everyone.”

“They _expect_ foreigners to be rude here, Morty. Who am I to disillusion them?”

“You’re such a dick.”

Rick made a noncommittal sound, and Morty thrust his hands deep in his pockets and looked down at his sore feet. He was still so mad.

Apparently McDonald’s in...wherever they were was incredibly efficient, because it wasn’t much longer before their food was ready. Rick snatched up a bulging takeout bag and thrust a pair of milkshakes into Morty’s hands and then they were back out on the street. Morty’s palms were freezing by the time they stopped again, abruptly turning in to a small park in a dark lot between two businesses. Rick dropped into a swing seat with a satisfied sigh and began digging through the bag of food. Morty didn’t see any alternatives, so he sat in the swing beside Rick’s, awkwardly holding the milkshakes.

“What are we doing here, Rick?”

“You said we could just go to McDonald’s,” Rick said. “Here we go. Your sakura teritama burger,” he grinned, holding out a burger in a pink wrapper. 

“Saku-what?” Morty asked skeptically. He could just barely see in the dim light that the burger was covered in a slimy-looking sauce.

“Just eat it, Morty. Don’t you trust me?”

Morty frowned. He wanted to say ‘no,’ wanted to throw the whole night back in Rick’s face, but when he looked over at his grandfather he saw something strangely vulnerable in his eyes that gave him pause. The night was warm, and he could hear the drone of some summer insect over the bustling noise of the city. This was nice.

“Is this supposed to be our d-date, Rick?” he asked.

“Duh-doi, Morty. Are you just now getting that? How stupid _are_ you?”

Morty frowned. He was really trying to convince himself to give Rick a chance over here, and Rick sure wasn’t making it easy.

“Look. Just try the burger, ok, Morty? For me? Just one bite.”

“I’m only doing this b-because I’m hungry,” Morty said, unwilling to drop it and capitulate. 

He took a cautious bite of his burger. Rick was smiling at him expectantly, and Morty tried to keep a frown on his face but the damn thing was fucking delicious. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until that moment. He took the carton of fries that Rick offered him and set to eating. The upside was that while he was stuffing his face he couldn’t be expected to talk. Rick seemed content to let them lapse into a companionable silence and just eat.

When they were both finished, Rick took all the trash to a can by the street. Morty rocked his swing forward and back a few inches while he watched his grandfather moving in the streetlights. He looked tired. 

They could have just gone home. Rick didn’t have to bring him here. Rick didn’t have to try to make it up to him. What Morty had wanted was a gesture to show that Rick cared about him. Well, here it was. They were in Tokyo or Beijing or something, alone together, having the date that Morty had asked for. Morty’s stomach flip-flopped with emotion. It wasn’t fair. He wanted to stay mad, but Rick was smiling when he came back and Morty caved like he always did. He opened his arms and Rick came to him and they held each other close. Rick kissed him and he kissed back and they smiled into each others’ mouths and this was exactly what Morty wanted. Forever.

*~*~*~*

Morty was shaking all over when he came back to himself. This was all completely terrifying. He was nearly paralyzed with fear. Was Rick some kind of stalker? Did he sit around in this little apartment making videos about Morty? If that was the case, where had he gotten the footage? Why could Morty taste liquor and salt? The answer had to be here somewhere. He hurriedly sifted through the vials, unsure what he was looking for until he found it.

_Our First Meeting._

*~*~*~*

“MORTY! SUMMER!”

Morty looked up from his textbook. His mother’s voice had an edge of desperation to it that made his heart flutter in his chest. He pushed away from his desk and hurried down the stairs.

Beth was standing in the front doorway. There was a puddle of wine and broken glass at her feet, her slippers soaking up the red liquid. She turned toward Morty, her eyes widely round and glassy with tears.

“Can I at least come in?” asked a gruff voice from just outside.

“Oh. Oh, of course,” she said.

She stepped back from the door and a man stepped inside after her. He was an older man, tall and strikingly handsome, dressed in a blue sweater and, strangely, a white lab coat. Morty gasped when the man looked up and their gazes met. The man’s eyes were shockingly blue, with a sharp, intelligent gleam to them. Morty’s stomach did a flip when the man smiled at him. It looked private, like an expression shared between two old friends. Morty felt _seen_ in an entirely pleasant way. It was a foreign feeling for the plain, lonely boy. He immediately felt a shy warmth spreading throughout his body. He broke eye contact and bit his lip. 

He was a fucking freak for getting a crush on an old man in five seconds flat.

“Morty, this is your grandpa,” Beth said, her voice unsteady. 

“Yo,” said the man.

The pleasant warmth coiling in his belly didn’t subside. Ok, yeah. He was definitely a freak.

“H-h-h-h-hi,” he said, still looking down at his feet.

Summer came traipsing down the stairs and stood next to Morty, her attention mostly on her phone.

“Summer, put that away, please. Come meet your grandpa,” said Beth. 

Summer rolled her eyes and pocketed her phone. “Hey,” she said, giving their apparent grandfather a once over. “Mom, can I go over to Justine’s house tonight?”

“No, Summer. We’re going to have a family night.”

“Aw, come on. Not fair!”

“Summer, your grandfather just came into town! We’re all going to--” A loud hissing sound rolled in from the kitchen. “Shit. Dad, why don’t you have a seat? I have to finish dinner. It’ll just be a few more minutes.”

“Ok, sweetie.” Morty’s grandpa clapped his daughter awkwardly on the shoulder. 

She beamed at him before hurrying off to the kitchen. Summer quickly followed her, whining about not being allowed to go visit her friend. Morty had no idea what to do. He didn’t want to go closer to his grandfather, and he didn’t want to leave, either. 

The old man didn’t leave it up to him. Morty froze when he realized that his grandfather was walking over to him. He fidgeted when he sat beside him on the stairs. From his pocket he produced a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. The raspy flick of the lighter was loud in the small space, and Morty could even hear the crackle of the cigarette being lit. 

“You’re not gonna tell on me, right, Morty?”

Morty wrinkled his nose at the dry, grey smell of the cigarette. “I g-g-guess not, g-grandpa.” 

“I fucking hate that ‘grandpa’ shit already. Makes me feel like a fucking skeleton. Just call me Rick.”

“Geez, I d-d-d-d-don’t know about that.” It would feel weird to call an adult by their first name. Plus, he was pretty sure that it wouldn’t exactly help him put this little burgeoning crush behind him.

“We can argue about it first, but it would be quicker for you to just do what I say.” Rick exhaled a stream of smoke.

Morty sneaked a peek at him. He’d always thought cigarettes were gross, but Rick looked undeniably sexy with one perched in his lips. Rick caught his eye and smiled at him again, the lines at the corners of his eyes creasing and making him look mischievous. _I’m sick. I’m fucking sick_ , Morty thought dizzily to himself as his heart leapt into his throat. 

“H-how come I never met you b-before?” Morty was shocked at himself for asking such a direct question, but it slipped out before he could stop it. 

Rick’s expression dampened. “I’ve been away. For a long time,” he said. His eyes darted away from Morty’s, and he blew smoke to the side. “But I’m hoping to move in here, now”

“Cool,” Morty said. He rubbed his arm awkwardly. “I g-guess we’ll see each other a l-l-l-lot, then.”

“I guess so.”

Morty stood beside Rick, growing more and more nervous as the old man’s cigarette grew shorter. He pulled out a silver flask and snuffed the smouldering butt out on the bottom of it before popping the butt back in the pack. Morty was close enough to smell the paint-thinner scent of the flask’s contents when Rick took a swig. He didn’t seem like a grandpa at all; he was like some rebel from a teenage movie.

“Wanna see something cool?” Rick asked him abruptly, climbing to his feet and reaching into his pocket.

Morty nodded. He didn’t trust his voice right now. Rick side-eyed him with a grin. From his pocket he produced some kind of shiny gun-shaped device. He twisted a dial on the back of it and then aimed it in front of him and pulled the trigger. Morty winced, half expecting to hear the loud report of gunfire. Instead he heard a strange liquid noise and before his eyes a swirling green portal bloomed in the air. He took a step back, but Rick’s hand caught him between the shoulders and prevented him from retreating any further. Morty felt himself shaking, and he hugged his chest tightly. 

“What is that?” he asked. He tried to concentrate on the comforting warmth of Rick’s hand on his back.

“It’s a portal. Go ahead--walk through it.”

“Aw geez, I-I-I-I-I don’t know about that, Rick.”

“Go on. I’m right behind you.” Rick gave him a little push forward.

“Geez, geez, geez,” Morty fretted.

He didn’t want to look like a baby in front of Rick, so he tiptoed up to the portal. He reached out and poked the surface of the portal with one hesitant finger. It felt gooey, but his fingertip came away clean. He looked over his shoulder at Rick, who made a little shooing motion. Morty pushed his hand against the surface of the portal and gasped when it passed through easily. His hand felt cold as soon as it plunged through. He waved it around and felt nothing but cool air. _Fuck_. Ok. Ok. Morty sucked in a deep breath and stepped forward.

The smell of salt water and the roar of crashing waves greeted him. The air was cool, the beach dark and empty as far as he could see in either direction. Above him, the sky was awash in a riot of impossible colors, some of which Morty didn’t even have a name for. There was another wet sound behind him and the glow of the portal was cut off, but Morty barely even noticed, he was so captivated.

“Like it?” Rick asked, standing beside him and looking up, as well.

“Where a-a-are we?” Morty asked, his voice hushed as if the sound of it would break this spell.

“Ursid 17-X. And that is the Cat’s Eye Nebula.”

“It’s th-the most beautiful thing I-I’ve ever seen.”

“I know, right?”

“I don't u-understand. How did we get here?” Morty turned towards Rick and then away again immediately when he realized that the older man was taking off his clothes. What the fuck?

“Portal. I’ll explain it later, Morty. Come on--last one in’s a rotten egg.”

“Aw geez, Rick, I-I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Don’t be a pussy, Morty. Jesus, are you a teenager or a little old grandma?”

“I’m not a g-grandma!”

“Prove it, bitch,” Rick said. He flashed Morty a grin and then took off running across the beach.

“Shit,” Morty mumbled to himself. He hurried out of his clothes except for his boxers and followed Rick at a light jog.

Rick whooped as the waves crashed around his waist. Morty let the water surge around his ankles. Fuck, it was so cold. He started to back off when he noticed Rick marching up out of the waves towards him. 

“I-I-I think I’m gonna wait on the beach,” Morty said hurriedly, shrinking under Rick’s looming height.

“I don’t think so, Morty. Where’s your sense of adventure, huh?”

Morty tried to sputter a reply, but his brain completely short circuited when Rick wrapped one arm around his waist and lifted him as if he weighed nothing. He splashed further into the ocean and tossed Morty, literally kicking and screaming, into the waves. For a horrible moment Morty tumbled beneath the water, disoriented. Strong arms caught him beneath his armpits and hauled him to his feet. He sucked in a desperate breath when his head broke through back into the cool night air.

“You can touch here, dumbass,” Rick said. They both rocked as a wave shoved at him. Morty almost lost his balance, but Rick caught him with steady, sure hands. “Look up, Morty. Just look up and calm the fuck down.”

Morty obeyed, turning his face up to the rainbow maelstrom that danced above their heads. “This is impossible,” he said. “This is all c-completely impossible.”

“It’s obviously not, considering that we’re here. You like it? This is just the beginning, Morty. You and me, we’re gonna run around all over the universe, Morty. I’m gonna take you places no human ever even dreamt of. We’re gonna have adventures every day, Morty. Just you and me.”

“Why me?”

Rick looked up at the sky, a wry smile on his lips. “Because you’re mine, Morty. You belong to me now.”

_*~*~*~*_

Morty leaned over the edge of his seat and heaved. His dinner came up and spattered on the floor with a sick _splat_. There was no reason that Rick should know his family, and yet here they were in his madhouse movie studio. He supposed that he should have been worried about their safety, but there was only one thought echoing in his head.

_'Morty, this is your grandpa.'_

What if it was true, somehow? It was impossible, but _every_ explanation he could think of seemed equally implausible. Fear was creeping into his bones. Dazed, he picked a vial at random. He couldn't stop now.

*~*~*~*

Morty cowered before the lumbering monster. It was made of vegetation of all sorts--huge frond-like leaves, enormous wrinkled petals, woody tendrils and vines sporting wicked eight-inch thorns. It roared in a way that somehow evoked rotting flora. It was like a damp snarling sound, and it terrified Morty. He was rooted in place for a second. Just a second.

And that was all it took. While Morty was desperately looking around for Rick, the creature lashed out with one long tentacle and hit Morty with a dagger-sharp thorn that snapped off and remained buried in his flesh. Morty lost his breath and his feet all at once. He fell hard on his ass, screaming in pain as his whole body was jostled. The creature let out a sound that may have been a chuckle. Morty’s eyes were swimming, but he looked around for his grandfather. He was out of sight. Back to the ship by now, Morty figured. It was supposed to be their rendezvous point if things went south.

They were never supposed to go _this_ far south.

"Riiiiiick," Morty wailed, panic thick in his throat. Oh god, oh fuck, there was _so much blood_. He clasped his hand over his stomach, feeling hot blood gush through his fingers. He whimpered, a mindless sound of pain and fear. He didn't know whether he was going to throw up or faint first. Hopefully faint.

"Morty!" 

Rick's gruff voice pierced through the melee. The huge plant monster looming over Morty shrieked as a laser beam pierced its body. In a shiver of dry leaves it gave up the ghost, caving in on itself. Rick appeared a moment later. He knelt down beside Morty. His face was ashen, his eyes round. He was afraid. Morty closed his eyes; that was it, then. If _Rick_ was afraid, then there was no hope for him. Rick was always in control. Always. He hoped the family would forgive him. It wasn’t Rick’s fault.

"Don't go to sleep," Rick said, his voice wild, wavering. "Morty? Morty! Listen to me, you little shit!" 

"'S not your fault, Rick."

"That's not--open your eyes, baby. _Please_."

He almost couldn't do it. His eyelids felt so heavy. His breath was coming slowly, peacefully. But Rick grabbed the thorn and twisted, and Morty's eyes flew open at the pain. He felt his bladder loose; vaguely, he hoped that Rick didn't notice that he'd pissed himself. If he lived, he'd never hear the end of it.

"Like it so much when you call me 'baby,'" said Morty. "I'm cold, Rick."

"Stop. You're fine. Quit being such a little pussy."

Rick hefted Morty in his arms, shushed him when he howled in pain. He hadn't been carted around like this since he was fourteen, but it didn't seem to be any more difficult for Rick now than it had been back then. Morty sobbed drily against his grandfather's neck. His abdomen was on fire, the pain in his gut like a livewire. 

"I want it out. Take it out," he bawled, clawing at Rick's shirt in a sudden fit. 

"If we take it out you're gonna bleed to death."

"I want it out," Morty cried, heedless.

"I know, baby. I'm sorry."

The portal gun was out of fluid, so they wound their way through the trees back toward the ship. The flashes of fuschia sky above captivated Morty. He wondered if Rick would tell his parents that he died in a beautiful place, at least. The ground was blanketed with white petals from fallen blossoms which perfumed the air. It was hard to believe that just a few minutes ago he had been cowering beneath a twisted, hideous oaken behemoth. It was hard to believe that he was bleeding out. He let out a high, inhuman noise when Rick had to heft him up again after he nearly slipped out of his arms. 

“I got b-blood on your lab coat,” he said deliriously.

“I’m gonna make you get the stain out when we get home.” Rick’s voice sounded wet, and when Morty managed to look up at his face he saw that he was crying.

“We’re not gonna make it h-h-home, are we?”

“Yes we are. You hear me, Morty?! I _forbid_ you to die, do you understand? We’re gonna make it to the hospital.”

Rick had said the word they’d both been afraid of. Once again he had a wave of clarity, of just how _real_ this was. Rick looked like he regretted his words. Morty reached up and touched Rick’s cheek tenderly, leaving a smear of sticky blood behind.

“Rick?” Morty felt woozy. His head wobbled freely on his loose neck. “I don’t think I can st-stay awake.”

“You can and you _will_.”

Morty weakly grasped Rick’s lapel with shaking fingers. He nuzzled into his neck. The pain was making him pant, which was making the pain worse in a sort of horrific cycle. Sweat stood out on his forehead, but he was cold. So cold. He struggled to do what Rick asked of him, kept his eyes open through a strength of will that he hadn’t even known he possessed. 

Suddenly the sky opened up above him, yellow clouds swirling through the vast expanse of pink. He managed to lift his head. They were in the clearing where they had left the ship. Rick tore the passenger door open and gently placed Morty in his seat. Morty finally felt hot tears on his cheeks, finding his new seated position to be unbelievably painful. 

“It hurts so bad,” he whined. He tossed his head back and forth. It felt like he was losing his mind. “R-Rick, it hurts so bad!”

“Good. That’ll keep you awake.”

Rick looked like he had been wading through gore. His shirt and lab coat were plastered to him with bright red blood. Both of his hands were coated, sticky when he took a moment to run his fingers through Morty’s hair. He cupped Morty’s face as he placed a tender kiss on his lips. Morty sighed into it, greedy for Rick’s taste. If this was going to be his last kiss, he wanted to enjoy it. He closed his eyes and tried to memorize everything about the press of Rick’s thin lips against his own. All too soon, though, they broke apart and sat with their foreheads together, breathing each other’s air. Morty heard himself whimpering as if from far away. 

“I love you,” Rick said. His wet fingers rested on Morty’s cheek. “I’m gonna fix this.”

“Please, Rick. I don’t wa-wanna die.”

“I won’t let you. I’ll never let anything happen to you, baby.”

Morty managed to smile at the old man before his eyes finally closed. Rick had been right--the pain in his gut kept him from sleeping as the ship rocketed out of the atmosphere, but he rested well in the knowledge that Rick would take care of him, no matter what.

_*~*~*~*_

Morty scrabbled at his shirt, clumsily lifting it so that he could look down at his stomach. He touched two ginger fingers to the large, round scar to the left of his navel. The scar whose origin he had been wondering about for months now. It was right where he had just watched a thorn pierce his gut. His fears solidified.

These were memories. _His_ memories.

He gaped at the box, filled with his memories. How much of his life was sitting in this room collecting dust? How had it happened and why? All of this sci-fi fuckery was messing with his head. He wanted to march back out to the living room and demand answers from Rick, but he was afraid that he would just take these memories away from him again. His head was throbbing, but he was determined to watch as much of his life as he could get away with.

His heart dropped into his stomach when he pulled out the next vial.

_Virginity_.

*~*~*~*

It was the fifth night. It was the fifth night, Morty hadn’t set foot outside of the dingy little studio apartment since their arrival, the portal gun was in pieces, and Rick was sloshed. There was no TV allowed, no video games, no cell phones. The Krebulons had advanced electronic scanning protocols, and according to Rick they were still lurking in orbit just waiting for them to reveal themselves. Morty couldn’t even go for a walk in the city just in case there were Krebulon troops looking for them. So all Morty had to do was stare at Rick, and all Rick had to do was drink. At least this bolt-hole was well stocked with food and, apparently, liquor and drugs.

Well, Morty was sick of it. He marched up to the ramshackle table where Rick sat under a ceiling lamp and huffed as he dropped into a seat. Rick looked up at him. He pinched the bridge of his nose as if to stave off a headache.

“I told you earlier, Morty. We can’t go yet.”

“I-I-I’m not here for that.”

Rick gaped at Morty as he swiped the bottle of green alien liquor out of his hand, too stunned to prevent the theft. Morty took a deep, brave breath and put the bottle to his lips. He nearly gagged when the liquid hit the back of his tongue. It had an intense flavor that was half chemical and half floral, and it burned all the way down his throat. He had time to swallow a few gulps before Rick recovered and snatched the bottle back.

“Bad idea, you little shit. Don’t put things in your mouth when you have no idea what they are. Fucking toddler.”

“ _You’re_ drinking it,” Morty said, crossing arms, sullen and stubborn.

“ _I’ve_ been drinking for decades. _I_ can handle it. This shit isn’t meant for humans, Morty. You were on a path to alcohol poisoning, _Morty_.”

Morty was embarrassed, but he stuck out his chin with all the bravado he could muster. “I ca-can’t just sit in here anymore, Rick! I’m going crazy!”

“You think I’m not?”

“At least you g-get to be drunk!”

Rick twisted the neck of the bottle between his fingers while he stared at Morty, a strange look in his eyes. Morty blushed under the intensity of it, shrinking into himself but unable to look away. He was starting to feel a little hazy. Loose. But he was still uncomfortable beneath Rick’s piercing gaze. It was as if all his secrets were on display. He clasped his hands to his chest nervously, fingers wringing together. 

“You’re not drinking any more of this,” Rick said sternly. He tipped the green liquor to his lips one last time before capping the bottle and putting it on the ground behind his chair. In turn, he produced a wooden box from beneath the table--the one Morty had seen him taking various pills and powders from during the past week. “You can smoke a little weed, maybe you’ll finally chill the fuck out,” Rick went on as he pulled out a pipe and a little baggie of green buds.

Morty watched as Rick’s clever fingers broke up the leaves and packed the bowl. Morty loved watching Rick work, loved watching his aged hands moving expertly over any task, from tinkering on a new invention to finessing a laser pistol in the heat of combat to putting together an omelette after they missed dinner. In his room alone at night Morty would wonder what those talented hands would feel like on his bare skin, and when he touched himself he pretended that Rick’s fingers were the ones pushing him towards his climax. When he was finished he always felt a little sad in the knowledge that the man he loved would never touch him in that way. He would never love him back.

“Earth to Morty,” Rick said. He nudged the pipe across the table toward Morty and handed him a lighter.

Morty stared down at both. He looked up at Rick sheepishly. “I don’t know how to do it.”

Rick rolled his eyes. He got up from his seat and rounded the table, coming to stand behind Morty. “Pick up the bowl,” he instructed. Morty obeyed hurriedly, nearly fumbling the little glass pipe, earning him an annoyed sound from Rick. “Klutzy bitch.” Rick leaned down, so close that Morty could smell the liquor on his breath and the clean scent of the soap they had been sharing for a week. His arms snaked around Morty. Morty’s heart was in his throat as Rick corrected his grip on the pipe. He took the lighter away and maneuvered the stem of the pipe to Morty’s lips, cradling Morty’s tiny hand in his own. “I’m gonna light it. All you have to do is breathe in the smoke--think you can handle that? Oh, and don’t cough into the fucking bowl. The weed will all fly out. I’m not packing you another, so keep your shit together.”

Morty managed to make a little noise of agreement. He felt like he was going to faint. Rick’s breath was tickling his ear, and he could feel the strength of the arms casually thrown around him. The sound of the lighter grounded him a bit, and he immediately began sucking on the stem, worried that hesitation would frustrate Rick and make this all end. The smoke was thick and it tickled his throat immediately. He turned his head and coughed out a cloud into Rick’s shoulder. Rick laughed at him, a low rumble in Morty’s ear. 

“Geez, Rick, I don’t think I wa-want to do this anymore,” Morty said when he finally stopped coughing. His throat felt dry and scratchy.

“Don’t pussy out after your first hit, Morty. That’s lame, even for you.”

Morty frowned. He wouldn’t actually admit it to either of them, but Rick could goad him into just about anything and they both knew it.

“I’ll d-do o-o-o-o-one more,” he relented.

“Bullshit. That won’t even get you high. You’re doing five.”

“Two.”

“Four. Stop arguing and smoke up.”

“Fine.” 

Between the two of them they struggled to get Morty to hold in a single hit, though. Eventually, growling in annoyance, Rick let go of Morty and stepped away. He dragged his chair over next to Morty’s. Morty shrank back from Rick’s look of stubborn determination, but Rick grabbed Morty’s chair and pivoted him closer so that their knees were bumping each other.

“Like smoking up a fucking kitten,” Rick grumbled. “Alright, listen up. We’re shotgunning the rest of this bowl.”

“Shotgunning?” Morty squeaked. “Isn’t that, like...k-k-k-kissing?”

“Oh my god, you know _nothing_ , so just shut up, ok? I’m going to breathe out the smoke and you’re gonna breathe it in. That’s all there is to it. Gentler way to smoke.”

“Ok, I g-g-guess.”

“Good boy. Now hold still and pay attention.”

Morty squirmed under the praise, but he stilled himself when Rick shot him a serious look. Rick took a deep hit from the bowl and leaned toward Morty, mere inches away when he breathed out a stream of smoke. Morty did his best to suck in as much of it as he could. Rick was right. It felt much milder, and at Rick’s urging he was able to hold in a lungful. He was giddy, wanted Rick to stay this close to him forever and ever. Four shotguns went too quickly, but then Rick made it five, and then six. Everything was taking on a beautiful shimmer by then, and Morty was loose and smiling. Rick started to sit back, satisfied, but Morty’s hand shot out and grabbed him by the lapel. He stared at his own hand, stunned at its disobedience, but what was done was done. He looked up at Rick’s eyes, licked his lips and opened his mouth to speak. 

Rick beat him to it. “Let go of me, Morty,” he said. His voice was all velvet danger, panther smooth.

“No,” Morty heard himself saying. If he was going to die, he might as well enjoy his last moment. Cautiously, he laid his palm flat against Rick’s chest. He thought he could feel the flutter of Rick’s heart beneath his hand. Morty waited to be pushed away, but Rick just stared at him, his breath shaking.

“What are you doing?”

“Touching you,” Morty whispered. “You’re so warm.”

“Ok, this isn’t cute, Morty. You’re high.”

Morty balled his hand in Rick’s shirt, preventing Rick from removing him. “You’re gonna kill me, anyway,” he said. “I can’t take it anym-more, Rick. I--”

“Don’t!” Rick said sharply. “You don’t know what you’re fucking with, Morty. Don’t say something you can’t take back.”

Morty shook his head. Tears stung his eyes. “I’m in love with you.” He breathed his secret out into the world, shivering as it left him.

“No,” Rick moaned. “Why did you--why did you have to _say_ that shit, Morty? Do you know how hard I--I’m a sick piece of shit, Morty, do you understand? _Fuck_ , how did I not--”

Morty surged forward. He held Rick’s face between his hands and pressed his lips inexpertly against his grandfather’s. Rick stiffened. He grasped Morty’s wrists and pulled away from him, holding him fast. Morty had never seen Rick look the way he did now--wrecked, trembling.

“We can’t do this,” Rick said. His voice sounded dry. “I’m your grandfather, Morty. And...and an _adult_ , and I’m _not this fucked up_.”

"Just once," Morty begged. His mind felt foggy, but he knew what he wanted and he couldn't see any reason to stop now. He was already a dead man walking, _and_ he seemed to have found a chink in Rick's armor.

"Liar." Rick didn't let go of Morty's wrists, but he didn't lean any further away. Morty could feel the warmth of his breath. He could smell mint and liquor; disgusting, but so very _Rick_. 

"I love you," Morty said. "Rick. I love you. I love you. I--"

"Stop!" Rick's voice was unsteady. He was _pleading_. 

Morty had won.

"I want you," said Morty. 

Morty tried to lean forward again, but Rick pushed him back flush against his chair by his shoulders. Rick's face flickered with emotion before settling into a snarl. There was agony in his manic eyes.

"You have no idea what I could do to you. I'm selfish. I'm jealous. Everything I...everything I touch turns to ash. I won't--I _can't_ …" Rick closed his beautiful eyes and took a shuddering breath. "I'm not going to be able to stop myself, Morty. I'll use you up. Don't make me do this, Morty. Not to you."

"Use me," Morty urged. "Ruin me." A low growl from Rick only emboldened him. "I'm already yours, Rick. Just take me. Take me."

Rick moaned from deep inside himself. Morty tried to push forward again, but Rick stopped him with a firm hand. He slid forward onto Morty's lap, straddling his narrow hips. With each hand on the back of the chair boxing Morty in, Rick leaned down to breathe in his ear.

"You’re mine. You're mine. Say it back, Morty. Swear to me." Rick sounded on the edge of feral. 

Morty whimpered. His senses were overwhelmed utterly. He pressed forward, grasping and scrabbling at Rick's back. He was already completely overwhelmed, surrounded by the heat of Rick's body, by the scent of him and the wonderously _alive_ rhythm of his breath. 

"I'm yours," Morty managed to say. His fingers tightened in Rick's lab coat. The world was throbbing with light, shimmering with warmth. Rick's stubble scratched his cheek, and even that felt amazing. "I've always been yours." 

"Fuck. This is so wrong." Rick nuzzled into the tender spot behind Morty's ear, earning himself a breathy moan. "No one else touches you ever again, do you hear me, Morty? Say goodbye to your little red haired bitch. Say goodbye to walking down the fucking aisle someday. Last chance to back out."

"Rick?" Rick sucked in a sharp breath. He started to pull away but Morty held him fast. "Do you love me?"

"Morty…" Rick hesitated. He sounded cautious. His warm lips brushed against Morty's throat. It made the boy tremble with ill-contained lust. "Don't make me say it."

Morty's hands traveled inside of the lab coat and smoothed his hands up under Rick’s shirt. “Say it, oh Rick _just once_ say it to me.”

“Morty…” Rick cradled the nape of Morty’s neck tenderly. He kissed along the line of his jaw, pausing to lave his tongue over his pulsing vein. “You’re the only thing I care about, Morty. I’d burn the whole galaxy down for you, baby. Nothing else matters but you. God,” he groaned, leaning his forehead against Morty’s shoulder. “I was supposed to keep you safe from _me_ and I couldn’t even do _that_. I can’t do this. I can’t do this to you. This is a mistake, I--”

Morty held him fast. “Don’t take this away from me. I don’t want to back out, not if that’s how you feel,” he begged. He nosed against Rick’s cheek until Rick turned toward him. Morty pressed their lips together in a tender kiss.

This time, Rick kissed back. 

And once he started it seemed like he couldn’t stop. He tangled his long fingers in Morty's curls and held him close as his tongue roamed greedily in the boy's mouth. Morty moaned and shuddered. He managed to finally untuck Rick's undershirt and feel warm skin beneath his fingers. His hands roamed aimlessly, fingers counting the knobs of Rick's spine and the dimples between his ribs. He was so thin. Yet Morty could feel the strength of Rick's body, of the arms around him and the muscles shifting under his gentle touch. Rick's stubble scratched Morty's smooth face in a way that was thrillingly masculine. Rick kissed his way down his neck, pausing to suck on a soft spot just above his collar; Morty, breathing erratically, made a thick keening sound and dug his fingers into the small of Rick's back. He heard a small, gravelly chuckle, and Rick ground his hips down against Morty's.

"Doesn't take much to get you hard, does it?"

"Shut up," Morty stammered defensively.

"I like it," Rick said. He nipped at Morty's earlobe. "I'm barely gonna have to break a sweat to make you scream. You wanna--can't wait to hear you screaming my name." Rick groaned at the thought, and the sound went straight to Morty's dick. "Go wait for me on the bed."

Morty whined with the sudden loss of Rick's weight and heat when the older man climbed off of his lap and headed for the bathroom. Confused, he nonetheless went obediently to the bed that they had been taking turns sleeping in. The sheets were crumpled and sweat stained. Morty looked around the sad little room, with its fraying rust-colored carpet and peeling wallpaper marred with a patina of old smoke. This might be where he lost his virginity. A sense of weighty melancholy began to press down on him, until he heard Rick's voice.

"Changed your mind?" Rick asked, frozen in place just on this side of the bathroom door. He was making a valiant effort to sound nonchalant. He didn't.

"No!" Morty's eyes rounded out widely. "I just--this room is kinda gross, y'know?"

Rick walked towards Morty, shedding his lab coat and shirts as he went. When he reached the bed he tossed whatever he'd gotten from the bathroom onto the mattress and then pushed Morty down by his shoulders, laying chest to chest with him. "Don't think about it," Rick said gently. "Think about me. Only think about me." 

He dipped his head to suck a mark into Morty's throat. His hand slipped between Morty's legs, over his jeans, persuading him back to full hardness. Morty squirmed beneath him. His back arched and his feet kicked at the sheets.

" _Rick_ ," Morty moaned urgently. He had always thought that jerking off constantly for years would prepare him for his first sexual experience. He'd been dead wrong. And Rick had barely even touched him yet!

"Talk to me, baby. Tell me how you feel." Rick pushed Morty’s shirt off over his head and set to kissing along his collarbone while his fingers fumbled blindly with the button of Morty's jeans.

"I didn't know. I didn't know."

Rick had success with Morty's fly, and he reached into his briefs immediately and gave his shaft a few long, slow strokes. "Didn't know what, Morty? Use your words," Rick murmured as he rolled his wrist, wetting his palm with Morty's precome and using it to lubricate his attentions.

"I didn't know it would feel so good. Fuck, Rick, please please please make me come." Morty's eyes closed until he felt Rick's crushing grip on his jaw.

"You look at me," he growled. "I wanna see your eyes, Morty. Yeah, baby, just like that. You know how long I've been imagining you like this?"

How long ago could they have had each other? Morty looked Rick in the eye, wondering just what the old man was seeing to make him look so feral. _Morty_ was the one who put that look there; _Morty_ was the one who Rick was staring at with such overwhelming passion. Just the thought, the realization and pride, fanned the flames of lust that Rick was already steadily stoking. Morty’s hips thrust upwards with no sense of rhythm or finesse. 

"I can't take it, Rick! I can't, I _can't_. Please. You _have to_!"

"Have to what, baby? Hmm?" 

"I need to come," Morty whined, too wound up to be bashful.

Rick’s hand left Morty's cock, and Morty nearly cried. His hips bucked and twisted wildly, seeking the heat and friction he had lost. He reached down to touch himself, but Rick calmly knocked his hand away. Rick was looking at him like a hungry wolf, eyes raking over Morty's body. He felt pinned by Rick's gaze even as the rest of his clothes were removed and discarded.

The sound of Rick's belt buckle being undone was probably the sexiest thing Morty had ever heard.

"Not yet. I'm not done with you yet."

Rick kicked his pants off and drew himself up on his knees, stroking himself to full attention. Morty couldn't look away. He'd seen Rick naked before, but never hard. He wanted to touch. He wanted to know what it tasted like. Rick was twisting to the side, grabbing the little purple bottle he had dropped there earlier, but Morty touched him on the thigh and regained his attention.

"I want to…" 

"Want to what, Morty?"

"I want to suck your dick!" Morty blurted out. His face felt so hot--it was surely beet red by now.

Rick chuckled and pushed Morty's hair off of his forehead. "Are you gonna turn out to be a little slut for grandpa, baby?"

"Aw geez, Rick. You don't have to--"

"The answer I'm looking for here is _yes, sir_ , Morty."

Morty whimpered. His dick twitched in interest. "Yes, sir. Please let me suck your dick." 

"Come here. Lay on your stomach. Put one fist around the base and--" Rick cut himself off with a groan when Morty decided to just go for it and suck as much of Rick's cock into his mouth as he could. "Less suction, Jesus, you're not a vacuum-- _yeah_ , that's it, Morty. Stick out your tongue, baby. Don't be afraid to make a mess. I like it sloppy."

Morty knew he had no idea what he was doing, but he just tried to follow Rick's instructions and took the fingers tightening in his hair as approval. It turned out that dick just tasted like skin, only musky in a way that Morty distinctly liked. He even liked the bittersweet taste of Rick's precome. He _especially_ liked the throaty noises Rick was making. Feeling creative, he cupped Rick's balls, finding them slick with his saliva.

"All the way down. As far as you can," Rick instructed. 

Morty wanted to Impress, so he concentrated as hard as he could and bobbed his head as far down as he dared.

Rick immediately caught Morty by the nape of his neck and held him still while thrusting forward. Morty struggled helplessly. He could feel the muscles of his throat fluttering around the head of Rick's cock. Just when he was sure he was going to puke, Rick let him go and he pulled away spluttering. 

"You did so good," Rick said, and when Morty took in his half lidded eyes and flushed cheeks he forgot to be angry. "You look so pretty gagging on my cock." 

Morty sure didn't _feel_ pretty.

Rick gently pushed Morty onto his back again. He picked up that little purple bottle and poured something sweetly scented onto his fingers. Morty thought he knew what was coming next. He bit his lip, staring up at Rick. His fingers pulled at the blankets.

"Nervous, baby? Don't tell me you've never played with with your ass before. I know you’re up there in your bedroom jerking off all the time.”

“I h-have,” Morty said defensively. “You’re a lot--you’re way bigger than my fingers, though, Rick. I’m kinda nervous over here.”

“Morty, I’m not just gonna plow right in there. Is that how you think this works?” Rick laid himself beside Morty. His hand slipped between Morty’s thighs, and the slick pads of his fingers circled the boy’s entrance. “You gotta calm down, baby. Grandpa’s gonna take good--good care of you.”

Morty tried to force himself to unclench, but even the pleasant warmth of Rick’s fingers was failing to persuade him. Then Rick leaned down and ran his hot tongue over Morty’s nipple and _oh, that_ was nice--why had he never played with _those_? Tension seeped out of his body and Rick pushed insistently inside. Morty laid his head back and moaned lewdly; the sensation of penetration was so strange and so pleasant that Morty was already losing his mind. Rick’s fingers moved inside of him while his tongue flicked at his nipple. His dick was painfully hard now, dripping where it bobbed against his stomach. 

“Rick,” Morty begged. He tugged at Rick’s hair, and Rick let him pull his head up so that they could look at each other. “Rick, p-p-p-p-please…”

“Do you like this, Morty? This is Scarpaxian ambrosia lube, Morty. It’s gonna--you’re not gonna feel any pain, but I still gotta open you up so I don’t rip you in half. You understand?”

Morty nodded. “Can you...can y-y-you touch it, at least?”

Rick shook his head. “You already look like you’re gonna blow like the second I get in there, baby.”

Morty sniffled, but Rick was right--it wasn’t going to take much to get Morty off, now. Rick kissed him. Morty felt another finger slip inside of him, and he sobbed into Rick’s mouth at the pleasant torture. Rick just kept working him open while Morty poured everything that he was feeling into their kiss. His jaw worked as Rick’s tongue rolled against his. He clung to Rick’s shoulders. _I trust you_ , he tried to tell him.

Then, at last, Rick was rolling off of him and settling on his knees between Morty’s thighs. Morty couldn’t see what he was doing, but he nearly clenched again when he felt the head of Rick’s cock nestling against his hole.

“Deep breath and push down, baby,” Rick soothed him.

And then there it was. Rick was inside him. Morty heard himself making an animal noise. Rick was going so slow Morty thought he might tear himself apart with his own nails before he was all the way in. Rick just stroked his thighs and called him a good boy over and over until Morty felt his balls nestle against his ass. They looked at each other, both wide-eyed and panting.

“I’m going to fuck you hard, Morty,” Rick said, so quietly that Morty scarcely heard him over the hammering of his own heart. “I’m sorry. I--I thought I could...but…” Something was hardening to a steely glint behind Rick’s eyes. He gripped Morty roughly by the hips and pulled him towards himself, grinding even harder into his ass. 

“Do it,” Morty said. “Take me.”

Rick _growled_.

He kept his word, slamming into Morty over and over again with sharp snaps of his hips. Morty expected him to be stoic like the tops in the porn that he watched, but Rick grunted and moaned liberally. Morty whimpered and whined back to him. He was losing his mind, his fingers fisted in his own hair, his dick twitching and dripping liberally.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Rick panted. His face was twisted in a snarl. He dropped down over Morty, holding himself up on his elbows on either side of Morty’s head. “I’m gonna break me off a piece of this ass every day. God, you’re so _tight_ , baby, feel so good for me.”

Instinctively, Morty brought his legs up and wrapped them around Rick’s waist. His eyes flew open wide. “Rick! Rick! Oh my--” The sensation had changed; it grew intense, urgent. He was filled suddenly with liquid fire. He tried to lower his trembling legs, but Rick caught him by one knee and held him in place. “I can’t,” Morty sobbed. “I c-c-can’t!”

“Think we found your sweet spot.” Rick kissed him, rolled his lower lip between his teeth as he fucked into him. “Stay with me, baby, and I’ll make you come harder than you ever thought possible.”

Morty nodded. He squeezed Rick with his thighs as he insistently pulled him down into a deeper kiss. His toes curled. He tasted salt, realized he’d been crying. Then Rick reached between them and took Morty’s throbbing cock in hand. Morty twisted beneath him, screaming out nonsense as Rick stroked him in time with his thrusts. His balls tightened. He realized that he was raking his nails over Rick’s back, heard the old man grunt and felt him shiver. 

Orgasm tore through Morty, pressing all the air out of his lungs, squeezing his heart in a brutal hand. The ecstasy was so complete that it was nearly painful, his whole body pulsing in time with the hot spurts that covered both of their chests and stomachs. His mind floated far away as his vision blurred. Something warm touched his lips and he heard Rick’s voice commanding him ‘ _lick_ ,’ so he did, lapping at Rick’s messy fingers and then sucking them clean. He didn’t know or care how much longer it took Rick to come, just knew eventually that he felt a burst of heat inside and then he was empty, _so_ empty when Rick pulled out and laid next to him. Morty rolled over and they lay like that, nose to nose, blissed out of their minds.

“I love you,” he said. 

Rick leaned in and kissed him.

“I love you, too, you little shit.”

*~*~*~*

Morty gazed up at the ceiling. What was he supposed to do with all of this information? Something was twisting up in his heart. Something that had only been there before in pale imitation. _Love_ , he supplied himself. With his memories of love, his feelings were flowing back into him. This wasn’t what he had come here for.

He cast his eyes over to the crate with a dwindling number of vials. One caught his attention. Maybe this would change things, harden his heart again.

_The Last Night_.

*~*~*~*

“That’s not the point, Rick!”

Morty was standing his ground, literally, staring up at Rick. His fists were balled at his sides. But he could feel a flush in his cheeks, the tips of his ears. Rick had always known how to fluster him. It didn’t help that, even at 18, Morty had barely grown any taller since the day they met. But Morty was emboldened by his rapidly approaching future, a future that would take him out of this garage at last, away from an uncaring family. He wore a red and white sweatshirt from the University of Wisconsin--the college he was going to be attending as of tomorrow.

“Oh _please_ enlighten me, Morty--what, exactly, is the point?”

“It’s just...I never said I can’t do any more adventures at all! Why do you have to be so dramatic, Rick?!”

“But your precious _school_. It’s clearly more important than me.”

“I never said that!” Morty was getting tired of repeating himself. “You’re not going to be around forever, Rick! I-I-I hate that, but it’s the truth. I really have to graduate from college or else I’ll be flipping burgers for the rest of my life!”

“You can just do what I do,” Rick said, looking a little subdued. “Rick and Morty a hundred years, Morty. I promised you that. Why can’t you promise _me_?”

“I’m not like you, R-Rick. You’re always telling me how stupid I am! Well, you’re right. We both know I’d get killed in a minute out there without you!” It was too bright in here, the light too cheerful for this kind of fight. Morty hated it, he hated the stinging of tears in the corners of his eyes.

“So just get a new Rick!”

“You know I don’t ever want a new Rick!”

“You don’t seem to want _this_ one either, you heartless little fuck! You’re about to waste four years on stupid bullshit that we’ll never get back.”

“I made my decision, Rick. You have to let me go to class. We can do adventures on weekends, but no more weekday trips!”

“What about...the rest?”

“We can’t just hang around town like a couple, Rick! Not in public!”

“Oh yeah? Tell me more about how you’re not ashamed of me, _Morty_.”

“Rick...what if Mom or Summer came by without calling first? What if...what if they saw? No way, it’s too dangerous.”

“In a city of 260,000 your parents are going to just randomly run into us.”

“It could happen, Rick.”

“Well _I don’t care_ , Morty.” Rick pounded his chest with an open hand for emphasis. “You’re the one who’s ashamed! You’re the one with the planetary fucking mindset.”

“I don’t want you to be _homeless_ , Rick. You know mom would kick your stupid old ass out of here in a second.”

“You think I don’t know how to take care of myself without your _mommy_?”

“Yeah. I do think that. You weren’t exactly doing great before you came here, were you? I mean, there’s a reason you're an alcoholic, isn’t there?”

“Shut the fuck up, Morty.”

“I don’t want you to be alone, Rick.”

“You don’t know anything about anything. I’m fine on my own. I don’t need you, I don’t need Beth, I don’t need _anybody_!”

“Right, Rick. Keep telling yourself that.”

Morty shook his head in disgust. Rick would rather be stubborn than listen to sense. It was a little sad, but more or less what Morty had expected. He turned and stormed out of the garage, slamming the door behind him.

He spent the rest of the day stubbornly being normal--eating with the family, watching interdimensional cable with Summer, and generally avoiding the garage and Rick, who went to bed early. Excited for the morning and his first day as a real college student, Morty followed his example, crawling into bed hours earlier than he normally would have.

“Morty,” Rick slurred, bursting into the boy’s bedroom in the middle of a stifling August night. 

It was sticky-hot, and Morty awoke finding himself completely tangled in his blankets with one leg hanging out. He sat up and blinked at his grandfather, feeling a scowl cross his features.

“Geez, Rick, not tonight,” he said, putting his head back down on his pillow and stubbornly closing his eyes. “I just want to sleep, Rick! It’s too hot.”

“Not ‘not tonight,’ Morty, ‘cmon.” 

Morty felt the mattress dip from Rick sitting on the edge of the bed, and he sighed and opened his eyes again.

“You’re drunk,” he said.

“‘M always drunk.” As if to illustrate, Rick fished his flask out of his pants pocket, as he was wearing neither his lab coat or blue sweater, and took a deep swig. He screwed the cap back on and tossed it onto the floor

“That doesn’t make it any better,” Morty groused, but he moved over and let Rick lay down next to him. 

Rick’s eyes were sparkling with affection, and suddenly Morty didn’t regret his decision so much. Morty loved when he looked at him like that, like Morty’s face was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. When Rick reached out and delicately touched his face, Morty nuzzled into the light touch. 

When they kissed, Rick tasted like spicy rum. He seemed to want to move slow, licking across Morty’s bottom lip to beseech him for entry. Morty parted his lips and their tongues met in a slow sort of waltz, moving in patterns all the sweeter for being familiar. Rick’s hand came up to cradle the back of Morty’s head, fingers tangled in his sleep-matted curls. His other hand slipped between them, dipping into Morty’s boxers.

A few slow strokes had Morty hard as granite. He was liking this. Usually their couplings were hard and fast, Rick practically insatiable and all-consuming as fire. Morty loved having his brains fucked out, but he also liked this moment to just enjoy the simple things.

“Morty,” Rick murmured against his lips. “You’re dripping everywhere, Morty.”

Morty felt himself blushing. After all this time, he was still about as jaded as a virgin on prom night. He imagined. He had spent his own prom night fucking Rick in the back of his ship instead of being simply driven to the dance. Apparently Rick couldn’t resist a guy in a tuxedo--even one as shrimpy and awkward as Morty. 

“Shut up, Rick,” he said quietly. 

“Make me.”

Frustrated, Morty fumbled Rick’s belt open and fished his grandfather’s cock out of his pants. He was gratified to see him close his eyes and shudder at the lightest touch. Rick thrust forward, taking both of their cocks in one of his spidery hands. They both moaned quietly as they began to rub together, taking pleasure in the wet slide of flesh on flesh. 

“Mm...get the lube, Morty,” Rick instructed. He shuffled down the bed until he was face to face with Morty’s sex and he swallowed his length in one smooth motion. 

Morty laid back his head and groaned. He pushed up into the heat of Rick’s mouth, his breath coming in hitching gasps. 

Rick tapped on Morty’s hip, bringing him back to himself. He leaned over and reached into his nightstand drawer. There was a little flash of moonlight on something silvery, but he didn’t pay any attention to it, instead feeling around until he found the lube at the back of the drawer. He handed it over hurriedly.

Rick slicked up his fingers and immediately pressed against Morty’s entrance, tracing circles around the little hole. Morty made a little strangled sound that Rick seemed to like, because he licked a hot stripe up the underside of Morty’s length and pressed harder with two calloused fingers. They slipped inside of Morty easily, and Rick immediately began to scissor them, starting to open Morty up for himself.

Rick opened his throat for Morty and the boy pushed inside with an appreciative shudder. Rick gagged and swallowed around Morty before pulling back coughing, saliva trailing from his lips to the head of Morty’s dick. Rick’s hot breath tickled Morty’s thighs. Morty reached down and entwined his fingers in Rick’s soft hair, tugging gently until Rick moved up his body, holding himself over Morty with his free arm while his fingers worked inside the boy. Morty watched his grandfather’s eyes, pupils blown wide with lust. There was something more in them tonight. Lust, of course, love...that was something they had admitted to each other long ago now. But there was also a sadness there. Morty didn’t like it one bit, but he didn’t want to call attention to it. That was a sure way to send Rick into a bender and possibly even an overdose. Again. So Morty closed his eyes and kissed his grandfather instead of saying anything. Rick ran the backs of his fingers over Morty’s cheek, the affectionate gesture making him smile against Rick’s lips. 

“You’re so b-beautiful, Morty,” Rick breathed. He nipped at the boy’s lower lip.

“Hnnnggg, _Rick_ , I’m all ready! Please just f-f-f--”

“No patience, Morty.”

The sadness deepened in Rick’s eyes, and Morty bit off his words. Morty reached up and laid his palm against his cheek. Rick nuzzled into it. 

“It’s ok, Rick,” he said, though he didn’t know what the problem was.

“It will be, Morty.” Rick gently brushed Morty’s hair off of his forehead and pressed his lips to his skin.

“Y-yeah, Rick,” Morty said, not knowing what else he could.

Rick carefully pulled his fingers out of Morty, and they were replaced quickly by the head of Rick’s well-lubed cock. 

“Kiss me,” Rick breathed, and Morty did.

As their lips moved together Rick pushed into Morty in one long, slow slide. Morty threw his arms around Rick’s neck. His back arched. Rick pressed closer to him, chests slick with sweat and sliding against one another. He set a slow pace but pushed deep into Morty, fucking hard. Morty broke their kiss and panted into Rick’s ear. He nipped at the lobe, and Rick hissed in momentary pain.

“You wanna play, you little shit?” Rick asked, not unkindly. 

He bent his head down and bit hard at Morty’s pale throat, bringing a bruise to the surface. Morty had to chomp down on his hand to keep from crying out. Rick grabbed Morty’s ass, squeezing and savoring the feeling for a moment before sliding his hands up the backsides of Morty’s thighs, lifting his legs up onto Rick’s shoulders. Bent in half, with Rick moving inside of him and mouthing at his collarbone, Morty was in heaven. His eyes were half-lidded, and he keened quietly with every thrust.

Rick laughed gruffly. “That’s what I thought, bitch.”

They moved in tandem, Morty’s body heaving with every quickening thrust from Rick. He picked up speed, hammering into Morty mercilessly. Sweat dripped from his brow. His face was twisted into a hungry snarl.

“Who do you belong to, Morty?”

For a split second Morty wondered if this was all about the fight they’d had earlier, but he brushed the thought aside. Rick always got possessive in bed.

“You...Rick, I belong to you oh Jesus Christ!”

“That’s right,” Rick growled. “I’m going to come all over you. I’m going to mark my fucking territory.”

Morty whimpered. Rick changed the angle of his hips. Morty had to turn his face towards his pillow and bite down to keep from screaming as Rick accosted his prostate. The blinding white sensation of it overwhelmed him utterly. His legs began to shake, and Rick held his thighs tighter. Rick fucked him with punishing force, and it wasn’t long before Morty’s gut tightened and he came all over himself. His climax left him empty as it passed through his body. He shuddered as it went. His balls ached deliciously.

Rick growled and pulled out of Morty, letting him fall to the mattress. Morty cracked his eyes open and he saw Rick furiously jacking himself off, dick pointed down at Morty’s body.

“Rick…”

The utterance seemed to be all Rick needed, because his rhythm stuttered and he was coming in thick white ropes all over Morty. He groaned as he came, a deep guttural sound. Exhausted, he fell to the mattress beside Morty. Morty turned toward him, sticky with come and sweat but far too blissed out to care. 

Rick cupped Morty’s cheek, thumbing a sweaty ringlet away from his eye. “I love you, Morty.”

“I love you, too, Rick.”

They had said it before, of course, but less often than Morty would like. And it was rarely Rick who initiated the exchange. It renewed Morty’s concern. He laid his hand over Rick’s and pressed into his touch. 

“I’ll always love you, Morty.”

Sighing, Rick withdrew his hand and reached over, digging in the nightstand drawer. He pulled something out that glinted in the moonlight--the silvery object Morty had ignored earlier. It looked like some optometrist’s equipment with a trigger attached. Rick pointed it at Morty’s face. 

“R-Rick? What is…”

“This is for the best, Morty. You were right. We can never really be together.”

“Rick? Don’t do anything--”

“Goodbye, Morty. I love you.”

There was a blinding flash of blue light, and Morty knew no more.

*~*~*~*

So that was it. Rick was his grandfather. His lover. A mad scientist. A thief who had stolen Morty’s memories because he didn’t get his way. And he must have done the same thing to the rest of Morty’s family, too, because not once this entire semester had any of them mentioned Rick. He just erased himself from all of their lives. He could have made a complete getaway...so why did he come back into Morty’s life? Love? He barked out a bitter laugh. This wasn’t love.

He heard a creaking sound behind him as he was taking the memory helmet off, and he turned to look. Rick was hovering in the doorway. 

“I can explain,” Rick said. He took a hesitant step into the room.

“Come to fuck with my head even m-more?” Morty asked. He took his own step toward Rick. He cast about himself, unsure of what he was going to do until his eyes fell on Rick’s laser pistol laying on a table near him. He snatched it up, satisfied at the way Rick’s eyes widened as he did. He leveled it at his grandfather, then, with a joyless laugh, pointed it instead at his own temple. “Guess I’ll just have to do it for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for being so patient with me! Life has really been coming for me hard lately and I really struggled to get this chapter out. I'll try to get the next one out a bit faster. We'll see how it goes, what with the holidays and secret santa and everything.


End file.
